Milk Is My Sugar
by Michael Serpent
Summary: My Veela twist... HD. Harry does something very stupid and ends up protecting Malfoy from the lust-crazed fellow students. He also decides to help the ranting and paranoid Malfoy to find his mate. Warning: This story is completely crazy.
1. Snowfall

A/N: This is written thanks to inspiration I got from Frizzy's wonderful Magnetic Attraction. I have her permission to use the Veela theme. 

A/N II: This story is written for pure fun. Characters may be OOC and everything is just crazy. And this is secondary to my Golden Snitch.

**Milk Is My Sugar**

**1. Snowfall**

The Central Garden, situated in the middle of the Hogwarts School. A rather large, square-shaped field of grass, surrounded by gothic columns from all four sides. Several stony benches scattered all across the open place. Safety from the outside world, safety from the tempests of the nature. 

It was the beautiful green heart of Hogwarts, both day and night.

It was thirteen days to Draco Malfoy's seventh year at school. He was sitting on one of those stony benches, watching the sky with an elated expression over his pale features. The time was close to ten in the evening, yet the sun was still slumbering in the horizon. Hundreds of gothic windows that were inlayed in the fortress' walls were reflecting its orange-pink glow.

Draco stirred his eyes. He looked around, at the enormous castle walls that closed his small figure deep inside their stony embrace. He could not see the horizon from his place in the middle of the high walls, but it was important that he knew it was there. It was important he knew that the sun was there.

Draco dropped his head down, allowing a couple of radiant blonde locks intrude his vision. The sun meant everything for him. It was his salvation, and his damnation.

"Fuck this all…" the young wizard muttered at himself. "Sometimes I really wish I was born somebody else."

Draco fumbled for something in his robe pocket. When finding it, he sighed with relief. Careful with his movements, he pulled out a small argent cube of the size of a match box. It felt ice cold in his fingers. Smirking, Draco straightened his back, moistened his finger between his lips and checked the wind. Only a soft coil made his wet fingertip prickle. It was so weak that it didn't even make his hair twirl.

"Perfect."

With crowning care, he opened the miniscule box and dredged a barely discernible path of silvery powder over his left forefinger. Then he brought the finger under his nose and inhaled all of the diamond-coloured dust, with a firm breath of air.

"Damn… So bitter…"

Closing his eyes, he held his breathing for some time, slightly grimacing at the burning feeling inside his head. He felt his body tremble, the blood in his veins freeze. He cringed and fell to the ground, covering his temples with his pale hands. And then, finally, the relief was gracious enough to melt over him, letting him float into bliss and liberation.

"Yes… So good… Perhaps I survive… yet another day…"

A loud clatter of a fallen broomstick distracted Draco from his thoughts. It had come from the stone-floored gangway that circled the green garden from all four sides. Draco tried to decide from which direction the sound had come, standing up to gain some self-control. However, he couldn't help glancing around in a nervous manner, like a helpless caribou in the middle of a forest glade. His heart jumped in his throat when he got a glimpse of shiny black hair.

Harry Potter stepped forwards, under the orange sunlight, looking both horrified and angry.

"Oh, fuck."

Harry was at Draco's side in mere ten seconds. Swiftly, he snapped the little box from Draco's hand and took it under a severe examination of his exceptionally green eyes. Draco was sizzling.

"Hey! Give that back to me, Potter!" he yelled, very annoyed, furrowing his dark silver brows in a menacing manner.

"I really don't think so, Malfoy! Are you mad?" Harry hissed, "Using drugs isn't exactly what you are allowed do in this school!" 

"It's none of your fucking business, Potter, what I do and do not with my life!" the Slytherin retorted, stepping closer to the Gryffindor. "Give the damn box right back here!" 

"Well fuck you, Malfoy! I'm very serious with this! Tell me, how many younger students have you already brainwashed to using this stuff, you fucking drug dealer?" Harry rampaged, waving the cube in his hand rather carelessly.

Draco flinched with fright. He stretched out his hand and looked at the Gryffindor severely. "It is solely for my own convenience, you fuckwit. I'm not a drug dealer. I wouldn't let anybody else take that stuff, even if they crawled begging at my feet."

"Yeah, and the likelihood of me believing you is just as big as the likelihood of somebody actually crawling at your feet, Malfoy," Harry huffed. "I'm going straight to the Headmaster for this."

"Then go! Go and whine to that old goat, I don't fucking care! Just give that box back to me right this instant! The contents of it are very hard to get, plus very expensive!" Draco said with menacing, low tone and tried to snatch the cube from Harry.

"As if I cared!" Harry sneered, avoiding Draco's attack. "In fact, I'm going to make sure that this particular share isn't going to spoil anybody's lives anymore. Not even yours, although heaven knows how much I'd like to stuff this all up your prim nose in one draft, and give you an overdose. So look… Here falls your precious snow."

With those words, Harry wrenched the lid of the box open, letting the fine shining powder flutter down on the green grass like icing sugar on a cake.

Draco went completely colourless with shock.

"Aaaaaargh! You fucking stupid damnable motherfucker! Prick! Retarded dickhead!" Draco roared at Harry, leaping at the Gryffindor, hitting Harry's jaw with his left fist rather unceremoniously. "Bloody fucking sordid IDIOT!"

Harry was taken by surprise and staggered back, holding his face. "Shit, Malfoy! That stuff has obviously made you completely rampant nuts!"

"You say that _I_ amrampant nuts, you muckrake? _I am nuts? Ha! _Do you have _any _idea what you have just done? You complete _ass_, you just happened to destroy the rest of my school term totally and irreversibly! You just happened to _destroy my fucking_ _personal life_ _as well!_ I'm going to tell Dumbledore!" Draco fumed.

"_You _are going to tell Dumbledore?" Harry raised his brows, spitting blood. "What the _fuck_ are you ranting about?"

Harry watched in daze as Draco strode past him, back towards the castle, muttering something about Harry going to be very sorry for what he had done. 

Without knowing exactly why, the Gryffindor ran after the Slytherin.

…TBC…


	2. Getting It All Fucked Up

**2. Getting It All Fucked Up**

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, heard the arrival of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter long before either of the boys entered his room.  Loud echoes of two snappy voices were carried up to his ears from the stairs behind the closed door, and currently Harry was rather rudely demanding Draco how the hell the other boy knew the password to the Headmaster's chambers. The reply was alike insolent, referring to the fact that Draco was Lucius Malfoy's son and knew everything he ever felt like he should. 

The door burst open rather forcefully. Both of the boys fell instantly silent when seeing the Headmaster, and especially his demanding expression. 

"Professor Dumbedore, sir," Harry muttered. "Sorry to intrude."

Sighing, Dumbledore then gestured them both to sit before his heavily loaded table, watching the two boys with a questioning glint in his old eyes.

"Alright, what is the purpose of this sudden visit of you two?"

"Headmaster," Draco started, jumping up from his seat and pacing around like a madman. "Potter just did the most amazingly stupid thing in his life, and I'm just this close to kill him!" 

Draco pressed his forefinger and thumb together. 

"Indeed?" Dumbledore encouraged the Slytherin to continue.

"He saw me taking the drug and he took the box and opened it and it all flew in the air and now I'm totally out of it and I really don't know what I'm going to do next morning when I don't get my usual dose and I am seriously going to make sure he'll regret this for the rest of his life and HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO SURVIVE AFTER TOMORROW MORNING ALIVE?"

"CALM DOWN, Mr. Malfoy!" Dumbledore roared. He looked at the panting Slytherin with worried eyes. "I understand you have a very serious reason to rant and rave like you do, but let us now think this matter over in peace. I'm sure you're not going to die."

Harry watched the exchange of them two in wonder. Somehow he didn't feel so certain of his own actions anymore.

"Mr. Potter…Harry?" Dumbledore spoke, after Draco had forced himself to relatively calm down. The Slytherin was now wandering across the room, examining the backs of the books in the Headmaster's shelf, trying to breathe evenly. "Do you understand at all what you have done, Harry?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "I prevented Malfoy from destroying his life with drugs."

The headmaster heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "I'm afraid you have misunderstood Mr. Malfoy's activities, Harry. The silvery powder he was using is not an ordinary drug at all. Nothing like the Muggle narcotics. It was a medicine, meant for very powerful Veela and half Veela."

Harry only blinked. Dumbledore understood that he needed to continue.

"Draco Malfoy here is of a Veela inheritance, Harry. Did you not know that?"

"Um, well… I haven't actually been that interested in his relatives, sir," Harry flushed, knowing not exactly why.

Draco snorted angrily. "Yes, you're probably the only one at the school who doesn't know that petty fucking piece of information. And here I thought the famous Harry Potter would know his enemies well."

Harry bit his lip. "I did suspect many times you weren't entirely human, Malfoy," he said, pondering.

"Oh, did you really? Tell me something new!" Draco scoffed.

"I didn't mean it that way," Harry pouted. "Not this time, at least."

Dumbledore couldn't help a little twinkle emerging in his much-seen eyes. "As it is, Harry… By throwing Mr. Malfoy's medicament away, you have now exposed him to the advances of his schoolmates. You do know what I speak of, don't you?"

"Er, not really," the Gryffindor replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"You bloody fool," Draco couldn't help huffing. "The Headmaster is saying that, when this evening's dosage has burned away, I will start radiating the Veela charisma, and everybody will become crazy about me and try to bounce me every time and every place like mad dogs."

"Everybody already is crazy about you, you dimwit!" Harry couldn't help shouting back, immediately afterwards regretting his jealous outburst. "I mean, you're already considered… um… hot stuff. So… ahem… How would this little drawback change the situation at all?"

Draco frowned at him and let Dumbledore answer on his behalf.

"Harry, Mr. Malfoy has a very strong Veela inheritance. As you may have heard him say, he is so called pure blood. This makes the situation really alarming. Without his regular medicament, he will be the target prey of every lovesick teenager of this school. And I'm afraid that when the weeks pass by, this leads into continuous sexual harassment of a very serious nature."

"You mean to say… Everybody wants to rape Malfoy?" Harry curiously asked. "Gee, I'd like to see that."

"You shall," the Headmaster simpered. "Namely, it takes at least four weeks to deliver a new amount of the medicament from the southern India, in which time I think Mr. Malfoy shall need very strong protection. And as the situation is this… I order you, Harry Potter, to be Mr. Malfoy's personal defender during the time he has to be without his remedy."

"What?" Draco shouted, highly dismayed. "No fucking way! I won't have Potter hanging around me twenty-four-seven! That's repulsive!"

"For once I agree with Malfoy!" Harry cried. "I won't be his guardian angel or anything even close to that! He has to manage on his own!"

Dumbledore looked at them both over the rim of his crescent eyeglasses. "I'm sorry, Harry, but this is completely your own doing. You've brought this upon yourself. And as much as I am afraid what kind of chaos you two are going to cause in public, this decision is made only for the protection of Mr. Malfoy. And you both shall accept it. It is my order."

Draco and Harry exchanged a glare.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. No protesting," Dumbledore warned.

"But this is just ridiculous!" Draco still found the courage to complain. "How do you know that Potter won't jump me once I start radiating? That would be considerably awful, and be certain that I will take it to the Ministry if such a thing happens."

"Harry is a very strong-natured wizard, Mr. Malfoy. Besides, the animosity between you two is one of the strongest kinds I have ever seen. Therefore I doubt that it could be conquered that easily. I will indeed be very surprised if Harry touches you in any way."

"You can count on me not ever fucking touching you, Malfoy," Harry assured. "I wouldn't do it with a ten-feet-long picket."

Draco had the grace to look slightly offended. "We'll see about that."

Harry cast a murderous glance at the Slytherin's direction.

"Now, now, boys," Dumbledore interrupted their beginning row. "Try to make a truce. After all, Draco, beginning from tomorrow Mr. Potter shall be attending your classes, your lunches and dinners and your evening activities."

"What? That's… That's completely unnecessary, Headmaster," Draco whinged.

"Over my dead body," Harry grunted. "I honestly don't want to know what Malfoy's evening activities are, let alone taking part in those!"

Dumbledore just smiled beamingly, which annoyed the both boys to great extent.

"I believe you both will start to see the reason of this arrangement when a couple of days go by. Harry, if anything happens to Mr. Malfoy, it is to be considered as your neglect of duty and the consequences will fall on your shoulders. And Draco, once the situation gets as heated as I'm afraid it will, I'll be very surprised if you didn't want Mr. Potter nearby."

Draco snorted and crossed his arms. Harry sat in his chair immovable with defeat.

"Oh, and one more thing before you two can go to bed," the Headmaster sounded suspiciously gleeful.

"Yes?" Harry spoke from between compressed teeth. 

"If necessary, you two shall be sharing the same dormitory as well. Harry, prepare to the possibility that you'll have to move to the dungeons after a few days."

Harry fell off his chair with shock. 

Draco left the office swearing colourfully.

…TBC…

A/N: Forgot to mention that this is written purely for fun! Therefore this piece doesn't contain much angst. Oh, and also our dear Voldie is already out of the picture, too.


	3. Snape's Lecture

A/N: Okay, and the obligatory explanation chapter... *grin*

**3. Snape's Lecture**

It was two minutes past eight in the morning. Harry Potter, dressed in faded jeans and a black jumper for the windy day, was standing in the middle of Professor Snape's office in the dungeons. Draco Malfoy was standing beside him, his skin oddly moon-bright, his hair more radiant white than usual and his eyes reflecting lunar glow. Or was it just a trick of his mind? Harry couldn't decide, because he had never really looked at Malfoy before that closely.

"Potter, I do not expect you to understand much about Veela, which is exactly why I have asked you here this morning," Snape began.

Harry scowled at him. More because he actually found Snape's statement true.

"It is very important that you know some essential facts about Mr. Malfoy if you are to protect him during these following weeks. Therefore, sit down and pay attention, for once in you life," Snape continued.

"Well, I think it _is rather important to know what kind of a freak I am forced to live with," Harry retorted. "So I'm listening."_

"Freak? You call me a _freak?" Draco cried, dismayed._

"Well, obviously," Harry sneered.

"Boys," Snape interrupted. "Five points from Gryffindor, for insulting my godson."

Draco simpered. Clearly he was enjoying this lecture, knowing that every single minute of it would be slow torture to Harry. 

"Potter, sit down," Snape commanded. 

Harry strolled patiently at one of Professor Snape's leather couches, sat down, crossed his arms and looked steadily forwards. Snape positioned himself behind his massive desk, obviously trying to look very authoritative. Although, Harry thought, the plate of sandwiches and the pumpkin juice can spoiled the image a little. 

Draco hopped in an armchair next to Harry's, threw his legs lazily over the armrest and yawned. Harry couldn't help wondering the total lack of fear the Slytherin boy showed towards his professor. Obviously they were pretty close. Godson? Oh, of course.

Snape glared at the Gryffindor. "So, Mr. Potter… Perhaps it would be wise to start this little briefing with Mr. Malfoy's background."

Harry made no comment, only cocked his head a little, showing that he was listening. 

"It is a very rare coincidence that Mr. Malfoy here has inherited some Veela genes. Active Veela genes, that is. As you might have heard, which I doubt, though… Veela are usually always female. Actually, Draco is only the seventeenth male Veela ever registered."

"Wonderful," Harry smiled, his eyes dim with disinterest. 

"His genes are inherited from the late Mr. Lucius Malfoy, who was a half Veela himself, and the sixteenth registered male Veela in the world. Lady Narcissa is not of any Veela inheritance, his connections being in the Black family."

"How interesting," Harry simpered.

"Potter, if you find something funny in my relations…" Draco began, but Snape silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Draco, remember what happens if you lose your temper now."

Sulking, Draco returned his attention to his shoelaces.

"What happens if Malfoy loses his temper?" Harry asked, now genuinely interested.

"You know what happens, Potter," Draco muttered, "You were at the Quidditch World Cup in 1994."

"Oh," Harry bit his lip. "Yeah… I guess I remember now. The Bulgarian Veela."

"Exactly."

"Their faces… they turned into sharp, cruel-beaked bird-heads and they grew long, scaly wings."

Draco eyed Harry warily, as did Snape, and Harry found their confused expressions so hilarious that he couldn't help bursting out laughing. 

"Oh… Merlin…" he breathed in between his choked giggles. "The ever-handsome Draco Malfoy, turning into a bird!"

"Sorry to spoil your fun, Potter," Draco shouted in between Harry's noisy laughter, very much aggravated. "But as I am only _partly _a Veela, only the wings part works with me. I am _not_ going to change into a bird!"

"But still! You are going to grow wings," Harry choked. "Let's see it, then!"

"Nope," Draco frowned, "Growing wings would ruin my best shirt and cloak."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you're such a vain snob, Malfoy." 

"Of course I am. The War didn't change _everything_," Draco grinned, half amusedly.

Harry grinned back, not knowing exactly why. 

"Alright, let's continue…" Snape massaged his temples. He was obviously disturbed by the mysteriously easy atmosphere the boys so suddenly had started to create. "Potter, when Veela go angry, there will also happen other transformations than the wings. They also grow sharper teeth and long, pointed claws."

"And now you're going to spoil my fun again and tell me that only the claws part works with him, because he's only _partly_ a Veela."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Mr. Potter. It is the _sharp teeth _part works with my godson." 

"So don't try to jump me, unless you wish to lose your tongue," Draco added.

Harry looked disgusted. "I wouldn't jump you even if you were the last person on earth besides me. Basically, I wonder if I'd rather jump Voldemort's dead body than you."

"Uh… Bad mental image, Potter," Draco gagged. "I'm not _that_ awful."

Harry wondered what he had just let out of his mouth and gagged, too. "You're right –you're not that awful."

Snape massaged his temples again. "So… Mr. Potter, given the circumstances what happens if Mr. Malfoy goes angry, I suggest you really try to get along with him. Unless you wish to end up in the hospital wing, that is."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry drawled. "And was there something else to discuss, still?"

"There is," Snape said, with a low, warning tone. "You're not going to get out of this room before we have discussed this matter thoroughly. I will not tolerate you insolence. You've just made my godson's life a huge degree more difficult, and I expect you, as a bloody Gryffindor and Harry Potter at that, to make your best effort to correct your mistake."

Harry felt a little nervous, and a little guilty, too. "Okay."

Snape sat down, grabbing a croissant from a plate that was next to a huge cup of coffee on his table. He bit one end off, and chewed it before he continued. The both boys waited in silence.

"I think it is wise to cover your basic information about the Veela. There are namely some other matters than their visual transformations."

Harry nodded, glancing at Draco, who was now examining his nails.

"Veela are very beautiful and powerful magical creatures. They are called the Spirits of the Wind. This is because their ability to control the air. They can invoke storms and whirlwinds and that sort of things."

"So if I were you, I would watch my broom when next playing Quidditch," Draco added.

Harry raised his brows. "I don't believe this."

Grinning lopsidedly, Draco waved his hand and summoned a little whirlwind above Harry's head. It tousled the Gryffindor's hair even more messy than what it already was, before fading away.

"That was just a tiny one, I've not yet become in my full powers. The last night's medicine dose is still affecting somewhat," Draco explained.

However, this did not make the awed expression on Harry's face falter. "You did that without your wand."

"Of course I did. Veela do not need wands."

Professor Snape had now finished his croissant. "Alright, let us continue again. I have other plans than to spend my entire morning with you two."

Draco nuzzled more comfortably in his chair, and began to stretch his fingers. Harry turned his attention back to Snape.

"Veela are very gifted in the healing arts, knowing especially much about natural remedies, which is why Draco is so good at Potions. Their instincts guide them, and they can recognize the attributes of the ingredient by merely smelling or touching it."

"And here I always thought Malfoy's just kissing your ass, and not _really being good at Potions," Harry muttered._

However Draco heard him, and sent him a deathly glare. "Watch your mouth, Golden Boy."

Snape decided to ignore, and continued as if nothing had interrupted his tirade. "But what makes Mr. Malfoy here exceptional, is that he is also a very gifted mediwizard, with the healing capability bound in his magic."

Snape fell silent, as if waiting for Harry's comment. Harry raised his brows.

"Okay, so he can do a couple of Healing Charms better than the rest of us. What's the fun in that?"

Draco's eyes widened, flashing with rage, and he leaned aggressively forwards, supporting his elbows on the armrest. "A couple of Healing Charms? _A couple of Healing Charms?_ Oh, I think I can do so much more than that, Potter!"

"Now, now, Draco, remember your temper," Snape admonished. "I believe Mr. Potter shall find out soon enough what I really meant."

Harry was confused and eyed the blonde Slytherin sceptically. Draco's expression was like one of a little child having a tantrum. "Is there something more, still?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, there is," Snape smirked, his oily black hair falling over his eyes. "Veela are also very, and I mean _very,_ jealous natures. If Mr. Malfoy happens to find his mate, do not go in between."

"Where did you even get the idea that I would go in between Malfoy and his mate?" Harry laughed. "Ridiculous! I think I wouldn't even be able to _watch him if he was sucking someone's face."_

"I only said it in case Draco's charms begin to affect also you," Snape sneered.

Harry looked appalled. "But Dumbledore says that it's very unlikely." 

"Yes, it is very unlikely," Snape admitted. Then he seemed to ponder something, but obviously decided not to mention it. "Alright… I think we have now covered the most important facts. I am sure Mr. Malfoy is willing to explain you further details if needed, Potter." 

"_If needed?" Draco mocked._

Harry cast daggers at the Slytherin.

Snape brought his already-cold cup of coffee to his lips. "Off you go now. I've had enough of you two."

Draco hopped immediately up, went to Snape's desk, gathered a pile of food on a tray and walked at the door.

"Potter, if you would bring the pumpkin juice?" he impatiently hollered back at Harry, who clearly was perplexed about the rapid ending of the meeting. "We're eating our breakfast in the Slytherin common room."

"Oh, of course," Harry mumbled. 

Slowly, Harry rose up from his couch, picked the juice can up in front of Snape's crooked nose and sauntered after Draco. 

"Um, why was that again?"

"Look at the time, Potter. It's almost nine a.m. The Great Hall breakfast is over."

Harry scowled at his wristwatch, finding Draco's statement true. "I didn't even have time to explain things to Ron and Hermione. They were already sleeping last night when I returned to the tower, and I planned on telling them this morning before classes."

"Do you always need to explain everything to them?" Draco mocked. "How pathetic."

"It's called more like _polite_ and _friendly, Malfoy. If you know what those two words mean," Harry looked frostily at the blonde._

"Look, you can tell Granger in fifteen minutes," Draco sighed, "She's in my Arithmancy class."

Harry was amazed. "Malfoy, did you just say something nice to me?"

"Huh? No!" Draco frowned. "I said Granger is in my Arithmancy class. What's the nice in that?"

Harry simpered.

"Potter, I did _not say anything nice to you!"_

Harry hid a wide smile behind his palm.

…TBC…

A/N: Patience… ;)


	4. Delicious Tiny

**4. Delicious Tiny…**

"What the _hell were you thinking when you were choosing your classes, Malfoy?" _

Harry's eyebrows were knitted together and he was querulous. He was holding Draco's timetable in his hand, looking very much enraged. The two boys were on their way towards the Arithmancy classroom.

"What do you mean, Potter?"

"What do I mean?" Harry's ever-green eyes widened. "Well, I _mean_ that you've chosen Advanced Potions _and_ Superfluously Complicated Potions. Are you completely mad? And Occlumency? Well, at least I know something about that, but how many lessons do we have to bear with _Snape_? Dark Arts Artefacts and Bound Magic. And Snape again. How atrocious!"

"I happen to like my godfather. But look, there's one class with Hagrid, too."

"_Sexual Behaviour of the Magical Creatures?"_

"Well, something to entertain you," Draco grinned, "As long as Hagrid doesn't include his own sex life on the schedule."

Harry felt a strong urge to slap the Slytherin in the head, but swallowed his irritation the best he could. "Well, um, I didn't even know there was such a… er… randy subject available."

"Yeah, bet that know-it-all Granger probably concealed it from you and Weasley, not wanting you to waste your time on something as interesting as that. After all, she's kinda prudish, isn't she?"

Harry glared, but couldn't deny the possibility of truth behind Draco's words. Instead, he returned to examine the timetable again. "And what, may I ask, includes P.W.W.W. and W.F.D.?"

"Oh, they're short for Political Wiews in the Wizarding World and Wizard Fashion Designing. Seriously, Potter, I wonder what you've managed to gather in _your schedule, if you're not aware of at least half of the subjects obtainable here."_

Harry pouted. "I chose what Ron chose. And… um… Hermione made the choices for Ron."

Draco raised a brow, but didn't say anything. He didn't have to, his expression saying it all.

"Don't look at me that way, Malfoy," Harry snarled.

"Okay," Draco simpered, but didn't look away. 

Harry massaged his closed eyelids. "Malfoy…"

"Just teasing you, Potter," Draco said. "Anyway, we're here."

Harry waited as Draco knocked on the classroom's door and pushed it open.

"Showtime," he smirked.

Harry gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah. Showtime."

It really was with great amount of genuine amusement that Harry and Draco entered the Arithmancy form room. The seventh year students that were gathered from all of the four houses were gazing at the pair intently, having now two things to stare and wonder. 

First, there was the fact that Harry Potter had just walked in with none other than Draco Malfoy, and obviously on a tolerable mood. The Gryffindor walked a couple of steps behind the Slytherin, who made his way elegantly across the seats to give Professor Sinistra a note from Snape.

Secondly, there was this odd change in Draco Malfoy's appearance. Not that his naturally handsome features would have suffered from any real change –it was just that his whole emergence seemed to have become more attention-drawing than usual. The eyes, the smile, the fair skin, the delicate hair… The grace of his posture… There was not one person in the class who didn't stare at him in a confused but adoring way.

Draco strolled next to Blaise, tossed his books on the table and slumped down on his seat. 

"What?" he asked the silent course group.

There was an audible ruffle of canvas and clatter of dropping quills. Students were clearly snapping out of their daze, being very embarrassed.

Harry seated himself close to Draco, across the aisle and next to Hermione, smiling goofily. "May I follow from your book, Hermione, since I usually don't take this class?"

"What?" Hermione looked as if a Muggle trailer lorry had just driven over her. "Harry, what are you doing here? And… And why did you come in with Malfoy? What's wrong with Malfoy, anyway? He looks oddly… er… never mind."

Harry stifled a snigger. "You think Malfoy's oddly handsome today?"

Hermione blushed. "Well… Um… I didn't say that. Er… Tell me this instant what is going on, Harry!"

Harry felt a little rebellious for some reason and decided to tease Hermione. Leaning lazily back in his chair, he crossed his arms and adopted a casual tone in his voice, picking up Hermione's school book.

"Oh, I'm just Malfoy's guardian," he said, sounding indifferent. "Hey, this Arithmancy really looks cool."

"G-guardian?" And don't change the subject," Hermione stammered. "Well?"

Harry smirked. "I poured away Malfoy's medicines and now he's starting to show off his Veela charms. I must make sure nobody jumps him."

Hermione looked baffled. "Any longer version offered?"

"Maybe later."

"Harry!"

Chuckling lightly, Harry began to tell in an undertone the whole story to Hermione. His cheery air disappeared gradually, when he remembered what an insufferable job he had ahead of him, and in the end of his tale, he was outright frowning.

"Oh, but that's just so horrible, Harry!" Hermione was sympathetic. "How do you think you can handle this?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed. "For a moment, I thought it might be fun to see people's faces when they saw me and Malfoy walking around as if being friends, but now I see the whole picture clearly again. How the _hell_ am I going to survive, without losing my sanity?"

"Um, have you thought about learning more about the Veela?" Hermione asked tentatively. "I have this very good book which…"

"Mione, I'm fine without any extra literature," Harry smiled.

"Class, are you paying attention?" Sinistra snapped from behind her desk, clearly annoyed talking to the mere walls. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would please explain me which series of numbers will perform the Fidelius Charm, and how they should be positioned?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow and looked at the Professor with his graceful 'are-you-serious' –look. 

"Four, seven, seventeen, twenty-three, fifty-seven and eigty-one. Arranged hexagonally, activated with Combining Charm and placed on both the person and the protected object."

Harry listened with awe –he had not the slightest idea what they were talking about.

"Very good," Sinistra said, his mouth twisting with irritation. "Ten points for Slytherin."

Blaise patted Draco's back in a friendly manner, and Crabbe gave a gentle punch on his arm from the seat behind him. Harry had never seen such behaviour, and obviously Draco hadn't either, if taken for the expression on his face. However, the situation didn't seem to be serious. Just some staring and some decent touching. But all the same, Harry followed the happenings like a dutiful protector, playing idly with the feathers of his quill. 

"And who of you can tell me how to attach the Fidelius hexagon into an object?" Sinistra continued, and Harry was none too surprised to see Hermione's hand shoot up.

The rest of the class went on rather peacefully, yet occasionally Sinistra had to remind her students that there were more important things in life than to stare at Draco Malfoy's pretty face. Draco pouted at this, and Harry chuckled, whereas the rest of the students were merely embarrassed.

The lunchtime arrived soon enough. Harry wasn't happy of the fact that he now needed to sit in the Slytherin table, but he was so hungry that he ignored it the best he could, only concentrating to watch that none of his table companions tried to poison his food. 

Every second minute, Harry looked over at the Gryffindor table. Ron was sitting there with Hermione, Seamus, Dean and Neville, all of them looking at his direction with disbelieving eyes. Harry decided that Hermione must have told them at least the basic situation. Harry smiled timidly at his best friends, and received a thumbs-up from Ron. 

Draco reached over his left arm to get the milk can. "Can't drink my coffee without milk."

"Milk?" Harry said, making a face. "Eurgh! _Sugar_ it has to be. Three spoonfuls of sugar."

Draco looked disgusted. "_Sugar?_ Who on earth would spoil a good, hot, steaming cup of coffee with _sugar?"_

"I would," Harry said, "And it would still taste better than your mixture of coffee and _milk!"_

"What's wrong with milk?" Draco asked, pouring a long dash of white liquid in his cup. "It's very healthy, lots of vitamins added, plus gives you calcium. _Sugar instead…"_

"…is sweet and good and enjoyable, where as milk always tastes rich and rotten and corrupts the coffee aroma."

"You have no elegant manners whatsoever, Potter," Draco drawled. "We put milk in both tea _and coffee, in the Malfoy family. Like _real_ English families do."_

"Well excuse me for not having a bloody real English family to grow up with," Harry narrowed his eyes. "I ever got a taste of coffee when it was cold, having stood there in the cold pan overnight, and sugar definitely made it taste better."

"Drama Queen."

"Asshole."

Draco and Harry turned away from one another, both very annoyed. It wasn't going very well between them. But what had they expected then? Harry turned his eyes at the head table where Dumbledore sat with the other teachers. The old wizard gave him a faint smile, and Harry nodded. He would manage this. He would manage Draco Malfoy. But when seeing Professor Snape's acidic frown, he wasn't sure if he would survive Draco's timetable.

"What the _fuck are you doing, Goyle!"_

It was Draco, who suddenly swirled around and punched Gregory Goyle in the nose.

"Don't fucking do that _ever_ again!"

"What happened?" Harry peered over Draco's shoulder at Gregory, who was sitting on Draco's other side. The chubby sidekick was now whining loudly, holding his eye and nose, some blood dribbling from between his fingers.

"He squeezed my ass," Draco spoke from between his teeth. "That stupid disgusting git SQUEEZED MY ASS!"

The whole Slytherin table turned to look at Gregory and Draco in silent confusion -except for Harry, who began to shake with silent laughter. 

"Shut the fuck up, Potter, this is not funny," Draco snarled.

"Oh, but I think it is," Harry chuckled.

Draco elbowed Harry viciously in the ribs and Harry moaned, however unable to choke his sniggers. Draco growled and turned his attention back to Goyle.

"Gregory! I demand an apology! You do not, _under any fucking circumstances_, grab my ass. Do I make myself clear?"

Gregory whimpered and Draco kicked his shin.

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"I'm so sorry, Draco… I'm so sorry…"

"You should well be," Draco growled. "Make sure that _never_ happens again."

"But you have such a delicious tiny…"

"You _don't want to finish that sentence, Greg," Draco warned._

Harry howled with laughter.

"Potter!" Draco seethed, and turned to glare at the Gryffindor.

"Y-you have s-such a d-delicious t-tiny… Ouch!" Harry wheezed, laughing mercilessly at Draco's expense, and Draco punched him in the ribs another time.

Draco did not have any classes after four in the afternoon. Harry was most pleased, since he was still suffering from minor heart complications after three hours of Severus Snape's Occlumency lessons. The day was sunny, even if windy, and Harry really felt like he needed fresh air.

"Malfoy, I think you can manage without me for a while. I really need a break from you."

"Of course I can manage," Draco said, "Just go and find those Gryffindor friends of yours. I can see you're dying to let them know why you're suddenly hanging around with the most stunning and hard-to-approach bloke of this school."

"Honestly, Malfoy…" Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, owl me if you are in trouble."

"Yes, since I have nothing better to do than find a quill, parchment and an owl when I'm fighting to keep my pants on."

"Ha ha, very funny. But seriously. I don't want my goody-goody reputation tarnished with an accident that happened to a Malfoy," Harry grinned.

"Potter, in case you haven't noticed in your self-importance, you _are the accident that happened to me."_

Harry scowled, but wanted to retort anyway. "Who are you to blame me of self-importance, you egocentric, narcissistic dandy?"

"Dandy? _Dandy?"_

"Yeah, _dandy!"_

"That word really doesn't suit a _Malfoy_!" Draco cried.

"Well, perhaps you're not a real Malfoy, then!" Harry smirked.

Draco's eyes flashed with anger, his corner teeth starting to grow sharper. Harry recoiled.

"Okay, not dandy. _Not dandy. Just don't grow those fucking teeth, alright?"_

"Afraid of me, Potter?" Draco simpered. 

"No, just don't want my brand new school robe bloodied."

"Oh, and who's the dandy one now?" Draco mocked.

Harry groaned. "Okay, I'm leaving. Just fucking stay out of trouble, will you? I don't wish to get expelled on my final year."

"Wonder why that hasn't already happened, since you're so bloody stupid," Draco mused irritably.

"Trying to outsmart me with your pitiable sarcasms, clever clogs?"

"Ooh! That hurt! See that you won't get lost in your witticism, Potter," Draco's eyes glinted with amusement.

Harry sighed in irritation and turned on his heels. "I seriously need fresh air…"

"And a shower…"

Harry gave Draco a finger over his shoulder and left for the Entrance hall.

Harry met Ron and Hermione by the lake. They seated themselves on a blanket under a tree, and Ron wrapped a scarf more tightly around his neck. Harry had guessed right –Hermione had explained the main situation to the redhead already.

"I promise you, we'll figure a way out of this," Ron patted Harry's shoulder.

"A way out, eh?" Harry huffed. 

"There must be a way," Hermione reasoned.

"Yeah," Harry grimaced, "Hey, I know! The sun is the elixir of life for the Veela, right? Let's lock Malfoy in the dark dungeons. Let's not allow him to see the sunlight ever again. He'll drain to death!"

"Harry!"

"WHAT?"

Hermione looked at her best friend fiercely. "I'll just pretend I didn't hear that coming from your mouth."

Harry bent his head in loss and began to fidget with his hands. "Sorry. I'm just… a little upset, to say the least."

Ron was sniggering. "I thought it was a great plan."

"You know, Harry," a sudden idea struck Hermione. "The book I told you about… I took a glance at it and… well…"

"I _knew you would do something like that," Harry grinned. "That's why I didn't bother to do it myself."_

Hermione showed him a tongue. "Anyways, I read that the Veela will trim down their charms when finding a mate. Do you know if Malfoy has found a potential mate, Harry?"

"I guess not, taken for the way he was acting last night. He was as much as hysterical of being the target of approaches. And when Goyle squeezed his ass today…"

"Well I can't blame him for that," Ron said, shuddering. "Gregory Goyle, of all people…"  

"Hmm… Rather weird that he hasn't found anybody," Hermione continued her musings. "He knows that half of the school has been drooling after him for years, even without the Veela charms, and yet he's afraid of bonding."

"Are you referring to a possibility that Malfoy's not yet done it with anyone?" Ron grinned.

"Ron, Malfoy is a half Veela for crying out loud. He can only bond once. Of course he's a virgin."

Harry flushed. "Can you use the word 'virgin' when talking about a boy?"

"Of course you can," Hermione shrugged. Then a bright smile enlightened her features. "See? I just offered you a solution! You only need to find Malfoy the right girl, and you'll shortly be free of your duty."

"Eurgh!" Harry looked nauseous. "I'm not Malfoy's pimp or anything! Besides, I think he'd kill me if I tried anything like pairing."

"Doesn't he want to bond, then? Doesn't he want to find a companion and settle down?" Hermione asked.

"I take it that he doesn't," Harry sulked. "Obviously he just wants to make my life a living hell."

"Well, in case you didn't know, Harry, Veela _need_ to bond. Yes, they really need to bond in order to stay alive. They must do it before the age of twenty-five," Hermione explained. "If not, the sunlight, which is otherwise so vital for them, will burn them into ashes, and they'll die like vampires under daylight."

"The book told you this?" Harry grinned. "Gee, I might really want to take a look at it."

Hermione hit him in the head with her schoolbag. 

…TBC…

A/N: Okay, this is going to be a H/D fic, if anybody had uncertainties. *grin* 

A/N II: Oh, and things are gradually getting heated… just wait… *wink*


	5. One Secret Untold

**5. One Secret Untold**

Draco Malfoy sauntered slowly towards the library. Deliberately ignoring some very curious glances from a set of second-year Slytherin girls, and some more lustful stares from a bunch of fourth-year Hufflepuff lasses, he entered the silent reading hall. Madam Irma Pince was sitting at her desk next to the entrance as usual, lifting her gaze from her parchments to scowl at the offending student. However, she failed miserably as the scowl turned into an esteeming ogle, all by itself.

"Afternoon," Draco greeted, smirking at the librarian.

Draco steered his elegant steps towards the Dark Arts section of the library. Not because he was planning to learn some black magic, but because the particular section was usually abandoned at this hour of the day. And solitude was precisely what Draco now wanted, for he had a lot to think about.

Seating himself at a small table behind the massive shelves, he dug out a quill and some sheets of parchment. The afternoon sunlight made the wooden table look very warm, and the books that surrounded him seemed very dusty and old. It all made Draco a little sleepy, and he yawned, stretching his arms in front of him. Then he picked up his quill and, rolling it a couple of times between his fingers, he began to write a letter to his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks.

_Dora, you heinous excuse for a cousin, I need your help, baby. _

_Potter, that sufferable bitch, has yet again spoiled my day. Hell, he's spoiled my whole life, if nothing can be done about it soon. He fucking threw my medicines away, and, well… Look where he's gotten me now. _

_I cut the shit right here, Dora. You know my secret. I know you know it, because I told it to you that one day, three years ago. You're thinking it right now –my secret. And don't fucking leer at me, it's not bloody funny!_

_All right, here are the facts. My Veela charms have activated. Everybody lusts over me. I am getting more and more pissed. And on the top of it all –that great wanker Potter is made my guardian. MY GUARDIAN, bloody Merlin! He is following me everywhere, day and (soon) night. And this is where I ask you to help me._

_You know I hate him. I honestly do. He is purely intolerable. Like I have told you, he is the sole reason I began to eat those medicines in the first place –just because he was the famous Harry Potter, who my father and the Dark Lord want to kill. Damn, I wish my life was simpler!_

_I hope I can control my instincts until the new medicament delivery arrives from __India__, but it is at least three ruddy weeks. THREE WEEKS, can you believe it! Fuck! Damn! And I do not want Potter to find out that he is my mate, not under any fucking conditions. It's going to be really, really hard since he's around me all the time, but I must try to act like he's not there. Otherwise… Ugh… *shudder*_

_Dora… Tell me what to do! How the bloody hell can I control my instincts around him? I'd rather die than jump him._

_Your (nearly paranoid) cousin,_

_Foy_

Draco looked at the marine blue ink soaking into the fragile parchment. Absent-mindedly, he stroked his lower lip with the feather end of his quill, staring blankly at the neat letters in front of him.

"There is nobody else but her," he thought out loud, "Even though I doubt even Tonks can help me out of this one."__

Rapidly, Draco rolled the parchment up and tied it with a ribbon. Glancing nervously around, he reached for the window and opened the glass. He sincerely hoped that the letter wouldn't fall into wrong hands during its journey.

Through the open window hole, the late summer wind tousled Draco's white hair irritably. He pushed it back to its place, only to find it a waste of time. Deciding that he looked good anyway, he returned to his original task and gave out a loud and high whistle, beautiful as a song of a nightingale. Not many minutes afterwards, his massive, shining eagle owl emerged on the windowsill, balancing on the narrow wooden frame, curiously examining his master.

"Take this message to Nymphadora Tonks," Draco told the eagle. "And hurry with it, will you."

The large bird seemed to hesitate, blinking its enormous black eyes and cocking its head, and Draco groaned.  

"It's still me, you silly twit," Draco leaned forwards and let the eagle look at him closer. "See? It's me. Good. Now dash off, you bloody ponce."

The bird pecked Draco's nose gently, clearly recognizing his master again, and decided to obey. Utterly annoyed, Draco inhaled his lungs full of fresh air, and let it seep out slowly. Then he closed the window glass and returned to his seat. His first day without the medicine was coming closer to its end, and he felt his veins already burning.

"Hey, Malfoy!"

Draco whirled around, gasping in surprise. Seamus Finnigan was leaning against the massive shelf at his left, hands crossed over his chest. Draco frowned, and wrapped his dark blue robes more securely around himself. 

"Finnigan, was there something you wanted?"

Seamus only goggled, a silly smile on his face, and Draco couldn't help but feeling very uncomfortable. Therefore he began to pack his things away. "Listen, Finnigan, if you have nothing reasonable to say to me, I'll just go."

"No, don't go," Seamus blurted out, snapping out of his daze. He stepped closer and leaned at the table. "I… Er… I thought that maybe… Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"What?" Draco's eyes flew wide. "You are being delusional, Finnigan."

"I am not," Seamus grinned and closed in on him. "I've always wondered how it would be like to kiss you."

"Wait! WaitwaitwaitWAIT!" Draco yelled, jumping up from his seat, knocking the chair over and raising his hands in a self-protective manner in front of him. "You are so not going to kiss me. It would be just… awful. I mean… EURGH!"

"Come on, now, Malfoy…" Seamus winked his eye, "I know you fling both ways."

"I don't fling _anywhere_!" Draco nearly screamed, as the Irish boy grabbed his forearm. "Take that hand off me or I'll hex your balls off."

"You wouldn't!" Seamus laughed, and harassed Draco against the window. "Gosh, you have such a beautiful mouth, Draco… Please, let me kiss you… Just this once…"

"What the FUCK has gone into you?" Draco slapped Seamus' hands away. Then he sighed, and looked at the ceiling pleadingly. "Oh, wait, you don't need to tell me… I already know."

"So you admit that you're gorgeous?" 

"Of course I am gorgeous!" Draco huffed, glaring at the Gryffindor as if said asked something very stupid. "Tell me when I wouldn't have been!" 

"True," Seamus simpered. "Now… There's no-one around, except Pince. But we don't have to worry about her, I'm sure she'd like to see some good action, once in her life…"

"WHAT? You are bloody out of your fucking mind, Finnigan!"

"You make me out of my mind," Seamus smiled seductively at the Slytherin, and Draco felt like gagging. 

Seamus brought his hands on Draco's chest and began to smooth his collars. Then he suddenly closed the short distance between them entirely, and kicked Draco's legs apart with his knee. Draco leaned as far against the window as possible, and cringed.

"Finnigan! Stop it!" Draco sizzled. "I'm not interest…mmf."                

Seamus pinned Draco harshly against himself and sucked the Slytherin's lips in his mouth. Draco was completely helpless in the bigger boy's clutch, and there was no way Seamus was giving him a chance to reach his wand.

"Get off me, you bint!" Draco shouted, and bit Seamus' lower lip so hard that it began to bleed. "I DO NOT WANT TO KISS YOU, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!"

"Ah, you like it rough… Blood and chains, eh?" Seamus only beamed.

"POTTER! WHERE IN THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU? You're not bloody _anywhere_ near when one actually _needs_ you!" Draco shouted, as loudly as his voice carried.

Then Seamus' hands began to roam down towards his waistband, and Draco genuinely shrieked. He closed his eyes, and tried to struggle away violently, but in vain. Seamus' grip was tight.

"Just a little snog, Draco… I won't hurt you… I promise you'll like it… I love you, Draco…"

"POTTER!" Draco felt already desperate.

But for his luck, the saviour of the Magical world was not far away.

"I'm right here," was the cold reply, which made both Seamus Draco flinch with fright. Harry was standing right next to them, an unconscious Irma Pince lying at his feet.

"Seamus, I suggest you get the hell out of here, and as fast as you can, or I won't be responsible for the consequences."

There was nothing of their previous friendliness in Harry's gaze as he looked at Seamus. His black hair was wild as always, enhancing his furious expression, and his glasses were halfway fallen off, revealing the burning green eyes. Draco felt weak.

"Get out, Seamus," Harry repeated, breathing heavily, "Now."

Stumbling, Seamus backed away from Draco and jumped over Irma Pince's listless body. He was out of the library in mere seconds.

Harry quirked a brow and looked questioningly at Draco. "You alright there?"

Draco, shaking all over with disgust, barely managed to speak. "Been better, thanks."

"Here, let me help you gather your things," Harry said. "Then we'll go to the Room of Requirement. I think we need to talk."

"Sure, the Room of Requirement," Draco answered. And then he suddenly began to wildly wipe his mouth.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, looking at the Slytherin as if he'd grown mad. "You hurt? Seamus hexed you?"

"No, I'm just mentally handicapped for the rest of my life," Draco muttered. "That bloody Finnigan _kissed me! I so need to brush my teeth."_

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Malfoy, it was just a kiss."

"Just a kiss?" Draco asked, looking incredulous. "_Just a kiss?"_

"Well, yeah," Harry shrugged, "It wasn't like he tried to kill you or anything. Surely you've kissed someone before."

Draco stared at Harry blankly, and Harry stopped packing Draco's schoolbag.

"You haven't?"

"Well, obviously, now I have!" Draco seethed. "And thanks to you, it was bloody FINNIGAN!"

"Don't even try to put this all on _me! You said you'd survive alone for a while!" Harry cried in annoyance._

"Well, I hadn't actually planned a bloody Irish _gorilla man jumping me in the __library!" Draco protested._

"I can't see what people see in you, anyway," Harry muttered, "Like you were some kind of sex god or something. Ridiculous."

"So, my charms aren't affecting you," Draco noted, in a halfway curious tone.

"Thank Merlin for that," Harry sounded genuinely relieved. Then he tossed Draco his schoolbag. "Now, let's get out of here. We have a long evening ahead of us, and I'd like to ask you a couple of questions before the curfew."

Draco shrugged, in his usual graceful way, making the expensive fabric of his robes wave prettily. "I don't understand why there's still the curfew, what with Voldemort dead and all," he exclaimed, looking sulky.

"Me neither," Harry said, "But it's there, and despite you're a Prefect and I'm a Head Boy, the rules still apply to us. If we aren't on our watch turns, we must be in our dorms."

"And what do you think we should do to Pince?" Draco asked, stepping over the knocked-out librarian. "Always a show-off, aren't you, Potter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems that killing Voldemort with such a spectacular show last spring wasn't enough…"

"No, I mean, why do you think we should do something to Pince," Harry corrected. "Can't we just leave her there? Should teach her some manners. She was spying on you and Seamus, for fuck's sake!"

Draco looked really ill, and swallowed. "I really didn't need to know that, Potter. Just… let's get away from here."

Harry smirked, his eyes flashing, and Draco felt his knees go weak. _Oh, Lord… We'll see how long I can hold back the pull… _

…TBC…


	6. Coins

A/N: Again, I want to remind you people –this story is written purely for fun, and I don't take it too seriously. Hope that you don't, either! *cheesy grin*

A/N II: No beta used. I don't bother with this. Sorry for mistakes.

**6. Coins**

The Room of Requirement provided Harry and Draco with a soft, thick wall-to-wall carpet, dozens of soft cushions on which to sit, and a low, Japanese-style table made of ebony. On top of the table, there were two cups of green tea, and a bowl of fortune cookies. Next to the window there was a chest of drawers, engraved with dragons, and two shining sabres in red, silk-covered scabbards were hanging on the wall right above it.

"Hmm, quite nice," Draco muttered, and dropped on one of the huge, green pillows on the floor. He crossed his legs Indian-style and grabbed a fortune cookie from the bowl. "So, Potter… As lovely as this chat unmistakably shall be, I suggest we get over and done with it."

"Okay," Harry shrugged, seating himself down, too, face to face with Draco, the low table separating them. "The first question is how long you have been taking the medicines."

"About three years now," Draco replied, snapping the cookie in two and ripping a piece of parchment from the insides of it.

"And why did you start taking them, in the first place?"

Draco read the little note through, and frowned. "What rubbish! This bloody fortune cookie forecasts that I will get pregnant in the course of three months. I just say!"

"Malfoy, stick to the topic, will you," Harry sighed, looking drained. "I really need to know the situation properly."

"Hmph," Draco grunted, and threw the offending prediction over his shoulder as a crumpled ball. "I was fourteen when my Veela genes activated. I decided to medicate myself with this silvery grind of Antipodean Opaleye Dragon eggshell, so that I could concentrate on the school."

Harry looked confused.

"You know, the upcoming N.E.W.T.'s and stuff," Draco said, mockingly, grabbing another cookie.

Harry glared. "No need to be sarcastic here, you prat. I was just thinking… Hermione has been doing some research and she thinks that it is a good thing that you don't medicate yourself anymore. You know, you must bond someday before you turn twenty-five, and what's a better place to find a mate than Hogwarts School, full of bright young witches."

"Or wizards," Draco smirked.

Harry flushed, "Um, yeah. Er… Anyway, I've been thinking… Maybe we could find you the right mate, so that your Veela charms would go down. You would be happy, and I would be happy."

Draco had the grace to snort. "Believe me that neither of us would be happy…"

"Honestly, Malfoy, what's the reason for your reluctance? I think you're being childish about this." Harry spread his arms in frustration.

"Your motive here is purely selfish, my dear Harriet. You just want to get rid of your duty towards me," Draco's eyes had an evil glint. "And that's not going to happen. Oh, no! Especially when this other fortune cookie says that I get to see my worst enemy's evil plots fail against me. That means all your scheming will backfire, and I will be there to see it! Muwahahaha!"

"Malfoy! Would you put those fucking cookies away already?" Harry cried. "This situation is very uncomfortable, and I really want out of it!"

"Likewise!"

"So stop being such an arrogant fuckwit, for once in your life! We need to cooperate!"

"Cooperation is exactly what I try to avoid," Draco muttered.

"What was that?" Harry crossed his arms, scowling.

"Huh? Oh… Nothing…" Draco leaned backwards and supported himself on his elbows. Then he flashed a wicked grin at Harry. "Let's make a deal. I will be a good boy and behave nicely, if you promise me that you won't try to find me a mate."

Harry looked dissatisfied. "I won't promise anything of the sort!"

"You will, or I'll make your life a living hell!"

"You already _have_ made my life a living hell!"

"Believe me, it'll be a _frozen _hell if you don't…"

"And I don't give a _hell_ if you threaten me; remember it's _you_ who needs protection…"

"Oh, are you threatening to _jump _me now, you disgusting scar-head? Because if you _are_…"

"I wouldn't fucking jump _you_, not even if you _paid me, you arrogant sot…"_

"We'll _see about that, you insolent brat! I bet you're trying to _woo_ me before the day is out!"_

"And I promise you that I will get _Dumbledore_ to woo you before this day is out!"

"Eurgh! You perverted, crack-minded…"

"Look in the mirror before continuing _that_ sentence, Malfoy!"

"Aaargh! I hate you, Potter, I _hate you!" _Draco bolted up, grinding his teeth.

"Well, I don't _exactly_ fancy you either, you idiot!" Harry got up to his feet, too.

"Fuck you! I'm out of here!" Draco bellowed, and dashed towards the door.

"Fine! Don't fucking complain to me if somebody rapes you, then!"

"I won't!"

"Fine!"

"_Fine_!"

Draco slammed the door shut. Harry fell back on the soft pillows, burying his face in his palms. He felt heated and exhausted, and he cursed all Malfoys that ever walked upon the earth into the deepest hellhole that ever was found.

However, two minutes and twenty-two seconds later Draco Malfoy stormed back into the Room of Requirement, panting heavily, cheeks covered with pink lipstick. He sought shelter from behind Harry, and grabbed the Gryffindor from the shoulder.

"Truce, Potter."

"Ha!" Harry snorted. "You wish."

"Pleeeeease!" Draco crawled in front of Harry and made a puppy face, which Harry found highly non-Malfoyish but very amusing. "I admit it! I can't survive this vile, abominable world without you, Harry my looove!"

"Eurgh, enough, Malfoy!" Harry made a face, but the corner of his mouth still turned slightly upwards. "So who was it, this time? Not Seamus again, I presume?"

"No, they were Lavender Brown and Mandy Brocklehurst!" Draco looked revolted.

Harry started laughing, "Now I've seen it all, the great Ice Prince Draco Malfoy, afraid of two silly little girls…"

"Hey!" Draco moped, but began laughing, too.

After their laughter subdued, an awkward silence followed. Harry fidgeted with his collar, and Draco took some distance between him and Harry, crawling at the low tea table. Neither of them really knew how to handle situations when they were having fun together –it was something too weird. Draco bit his lip, and for the sake of not looking so stupid, he grabbed a third fortune cookie.

"If you dare read that out loud, I'll strangle you myself," Harry warned.

Draco smirked, and snapped the cookie open. Harry followed annoyed as the Slytherin rolled the parchment open. 

"So?" Harry asked.

"What?" Draco raised his brows, reading the text.

"What's it say?"

"I thought you didn't wanna hear."

"Well, if it promises something like you being pregnant, again, I might as well amuse myself by hearing it."

Draco gave him a sharp look. "Well, to your disappointment, this says that I will die old, happy, devastatingly beautiful and filthy rich."

Harry sulked. "I knew that already."

"What, you really think that I am, how was it again, 'devastatingly beautiful'?" Draco sniggered. 

"Shut up, Malfoy, I've got an idea," Harry said, his cheeks a little flushed, and stood up.

"Now there's a shocker."

Draco watched as Harry walked at the desk that stood next to the window. The Gryffindor dug out a couple of shining coins from one of its drawers. Then he threw another one at Draco.

"What are these?" Draco asked, catching the coin from the air with his brilliant seeker reflexes. He eyed suspiciously the gold galleon in his hand. "You're not trying to bribe me to being nice, or anything?"

"No, you silly twat, that's not real money. Look," Harry said, and touched Draco's fake galleon. It became warm. "These were originally meant for other purposes, but I guess these might work with us, as well. I mean, whenever you need my help and I'm not present, just change that serial number to show me where you are, and look –my coin becomes warm, too, and shows me the same details."

"Hmm, impressive," Draco raised his brows.

"Thank Hermione for this," Harry chuckled.

Draco looked disgusted.

"Can I ask you something, by the way?" Harry glanced sideways at the Slytherin.

"Shoot," Draco shrugged, putting the coin in his pocket.

"Why didn't you hurt Seamus? Or Lavender and Mandy? You could've used your Veela stuff against them, you know, like those whirlwinds and sharp teeth."

"Dumbledore's orders. I'm not allowed to physically hurt anybody," Draco pouted. "Not even you, I might add."

Harry grinned cheekily. "Great!"

"That is, unless I get really angry and cannot control myself, anymore," Draco added wickedly.

Harry and Draco exited the Room of Requirement, Draco having requirements elsewhere, like in the dungeon toilets. Harry trotted after the Slytherin downstairs, glaring threateningly at everyone who even thought of grabbing Draco's arm and molesting him.

"Why do you have to take a piss in the dungeons, I just ask you," Harry muttered.

"I am not using public toilets, they're disgusting," Draco answered, stopping in front of a weird portrait that presented a greasy-haired wizard. 

"What's in there?" Harry asked, eyeing the painting. "And that picture looks distantly like Snape, even though it's definitely uglier."

"I _am Severus Snape!" the portrait said, dismayed. "My artist just wasn't the best of them all." _

Draco snorted insolently and tugged the belt buckle of the black-clad painting man. "Come on, Potter, he's even crankier than the real one. Don't bother arguing with him."

Harry gave the malformed Severus-picture a funny glance, and followed Draco into the Slytherin toilets.

"What an honour for Snape, having his picture hanging as an entrance to a lavatory," Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't know," Draco smirked. "Nobody knows about these toilets, except me and a couple of other distinguished Slytherins. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Draco made his way to one of the cubicles to ease his state. Harry raised his exploring eyes at the high ceiling and the eight walls that were all covered with black marble. A large, continuous mirror was covering three walls of the hexagon, and it was framed with emerald-eyed, silvery serpents. 

"How original," Harry muttered, sarcastically.

"Hey Potter," Draco asked, his voice echoing from the cubicle.

"Yeah?" Harry said, turning to examine his reflection from the black, shining wall, instead of the grand looking glass.

"How come my Veela charms won't affect you? I mean, seriously."

"How the hell would I know," Harry shrugged. "I'm just glad that they don't."

"You're the only one, you know," Draco continued. There was a roar of water flushed down the toilet. "Maybe there's something wrong with you."

"Haven't you been saying that all these six years already?" Harry simpered, trying to settle his hair flat, however unsuccessfully. The black marble showed him the same wild coiffure than before.

Draco emerged, and went to wash his hands. He glanced at Harry, looking contemplating.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh… Nothing," Draco said, silently.

Harry gave Draco a pointed look. "Malfoy, just say it, will you."

"You should try my hair wax," Draco looked at Harry via the serpent mirror. "It's supremely good, and could do miracles to your messy tresses."

"Are you offering me your hair wax, Malfoy?" Harry was amused. "This world is getting weirder and weirder…"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Potter."

The Slytherin common room was full of people when Draco arrived there with Harry. Draco frowned at the adoring stares, trying his best to ignore the drooling teenager girls. Robes swirling, he stalked straight to his dormitory room, wanting to finish his homework. Harry followed.

Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on their beds, trying to understand something about Herbology, when Draco slammed the door forcefully open and entered. Immediately, the two sidekicks forgot about their essays, and started to stare at Draco.

"I've never really been here before," Harry mused, half out loud, sitting on Draco's bed. He remembered the one time with Polyjuice potion, but that didn't really count, since he hadn't ventured much further than the common room sofa.

"It's not like I've been in the Gryffindor tower, either," Draco said distractedly, and opened his schoolbag, sitting at the desk that stood next to the damp dungeon wall, under a flickering torch. "Vincent, don't even think about it."

The colossal boy dropped back on his bed, sulking. Harry snorted. Draco must've had a sixth sense, knowing that Crabbe was about to come and touch him, even though the blonde was not facing him.

"Can I help you guys?" Harry asked Gregory. "I haven't got my own books with me; I might as well do my homework with you."

Gregory Goyle looked utterly surprised, as did Vincent Crabbe. They both glanced at Draco, who merely looked amused.

"Potter's not the smartest one here, but he's smarter than either of you, so I suggest you accept," he said, smirking. 

Harry fumed, grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked Draco on the head with it. "I am _very smart, you asshole!"_

Draco spilled the ink over his essay parchment and growled. "Potter! You'll pay for that!"

Soon, a wild pillow war was raging on Draco's bed. Vincent and Gregory had lent their own pillows in the game, and were watching the fight in wonder. Draco was currently straddling Harry, ripping the Gryffindor's shirt collar open, in order to stuff a pillow inside, and Harry was trying to suffocate Draco with a very large fluff pad, which was Draco's own. 

"You annoying filthy Gryffindor brat!" Draco yelled, his voice muffled by the cushion. "You just can't help yourself, can you? Always getting me into trouble, always annoying me, always there to spoil my day…"

"Others call it _saving_ the day, you arrogant sod!" Harry growled, and hauled Malfoy around, so that the Slytherin was lying under him. "Your family just couldn't help tampering with Veela people, now could they? Such perverted sick…"

"Who are you calling perverted, Potter? _Get the fuck off me_!" Draco retorted with flushed cheeks, nudging his hips upwards. 

"Oh, are you _getting off of me_?" Harry leered, and tried to suffocate Draco anew with the pillow. Draco, however, had other plans and he grabbed the pillow rather harshly, smashing it on Harry's face. Unfortunately, the fluffy pad burst in two. 

Harry and Draco both looked bewildered as the feathers spread in the air around them. They danced silently downwards, like enormous snow flakes, landing on Draco's face and chest, and Harry's ebony curls.

"Now you did it, you vile, ugly beast!" Draco winced, and a second later, he sneezed. And he sneezed again.

"Draco's allergic," explained Vincent, and Gregory began to laugh goofily.

Harry looked down at the blonde Slytherin, who was sneezing the third time, and burst out laughing, too.

"If I ever have seen anything as cute before…" he trailed off, holding his stomach. 

"I'm not _cute!" Draco snarled, and sneezed right at Harry's face. _

"Eurgh, Malfoy!" Harry cried in dismay, and wiped his eyes. "Disgusting!"

"_Hatchoo_!"

"_Malfoy_! You're _revolting!" Harry shrieked, when another wet blow slapped his features._

"Others call me _resistless_," Draco grinned up at the Gryffindor. "They'd do _anything_ to get me even sneeze on them."

"Well, then the others are a bunch of dunderheads," Harry snorted, and moved away from Draco's lap. "You just need to bat your oh-so-pretty-and-thick Veela lashes at them, and they'd do anything for you. I say it's _sickening."_

"Who's sickening?" Draco sneezed, and wiped his eyes. Then he raised his hand, and performed a beautiful, little cyclone, which danced upon his belly, carrying all the feathers upwards, away from him. 

Harry watched this in awe, just like Vincent and Gregory. Draco rolled his eyes, and guided the whirlwind in the trash basket.

"Now… Shall we continue with Herbology?" he asked casually, tensing his stomach muscles to sit up on the bed. He deliberately ignored the three jaws that hung close to the floor.

Three hours later, Draco had finished his last essay, which was for Sexual Behaviour of Magical Creatures, concerning Medusa women. He put his quill away, sighing with content, and turned around to face the others. 

Vincent and Gregory were both sprawled on the floor, playing their own, eased version of the Wizard Chess. Harry had helped them with their homework, and for the first time in many weeks they were ready before Draco. 

And speaking of the devil, Harry was now lying on Draco's bed, much to the Veela's dismay and distraction, sound asleep.

"Great…" Draco muttered, stood up and stretched out. His bum felt numb, and his muscles tense –and he really wanted to get some rest.

"Wake up, Potter," he said, walking at the bed and poked Harry's ribs. 

He tried not to think about how beautiful Harry seemed to him, with his glasses askew and his shirt up enough to reveal the firm abs and slim hips.

"Potter?" Draco said again, when Harry didn't react.

"What?" the Gryffindor snapped, clearly too drowsy to understand the situation, and turned on his side, back against Draco.

Draco looked pleadingly at the ceiling, muttered something along the lines of 'I can't believe this', and knelt on the mattress. He grabbed Harry's shoulder and began to shake it, rather violently. "Potter, you're wrong if you think that I'm letting you sleep in my bed!"

"What? Huh?" Harry startled awake. "Malfoy?"

Vincent and Gregory started to guffaw on the floor, following the situation with fascination. 

"Yes, it's me," Draco drawled, looking bored. "Now would you get your arse moving? We're not going to sleep together, you know, no matter how much I know you adore me."

This seemed to wake Harry up completely, and he jumped out of the bed. "What? Ew! As if I'd ever look at you in _that way!"_

Draco felt the Veela instincts bang his chest from the inside rather painfully, but he hid it well. He was angry at the fact that Harry's words could hurt him so much.

"I know," he muttered under his breath. Then he faced Harry with new courage. "I was just trying to say that it's time for me to take a bath and go to sleep."

"Oh, right," Harry pushed his glasses better on his nose. "Er… I don't have to come and take a bath with you, do I?"

"As if I'd even let you!" Draco looked disgusted. He always bathed alone.

"Well, I trust you have good locking charms on the door, then," Harry said. "Or do you need me to sit behind it, telling people to bugger off? Because if you do, you can be sure that I won't do it."

"We can do it," Vincent and Gregory offered, looking hopeful.

Draco looked miserable and pissed. "No, thanks, Vin and Greg."

"I suggest you skip the bath and take it in the morning," Harry yawned. "I can come and watch your door then."

"Hmh, alright," Draco looked thoughtful.

"Now, you just get in bed. I'll place the charms around you so that no-one will jump you in your sleep," Harry yawned again. "I'm so tired that I can hardly make it in the Tower, anymore, so hurry up."

Draco shrugged, and trotted at his wardrobe. He was rather tired himself, having had such a stressing day. But he'd lived through it, and that was the main point. He gracefully slipped out of his shirt and trousers, and turned around, wearing nothing but his black boxer-briefs. Harry was watching him with a very strange expression. 

"What?" he asked irritated. 

"Er… Nothing," Harry swallowed.

Vincent and Gregory were silently creeping towards him, the chess game completely forgotten. 

"Agh!" Draco's pupils went wide, as they touched his shins. "Stop it, right now!" 

But the two fat goons did not do anything of the sort. Draco was immovable with horror.

"Er, maybe you should put some more clothes on," Harry suggested, blushing.

"B-b-but I always sleep like this," Draco whinged, and edged towards the corner of the room, away from Crabbe and Goyle's reach. 

"Well, maybe you should make an exception," Harry sighed, and walked past the two crawling boys at Draco's wardrobe. He grabbed a random pair of soft trousers and threw them at Draco. "Put them on. I can't be here watching every single moment of your night."

"But you s-said you'd cast some spells?" Draco looked panicked, but obeyed nevertheless, putting the trousers on. "I mean, look at those two! Have you ever seen anything as nauseating?" 

Harry looked at the lust-twisted faces of the Slytherins. "No, actually I haven't," he confessed. "I almost feel sorry for you."

"Gee, thanks," Draco said, sarcastically.

"Now, come on, let's tug you in," Harry said, went to Draco and pulled him towards the bed. Quickly, Draco crawled under the quilt, and sighed in relief. 

However, his expression turned displeased in mere seconds.

"Now what?" Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. 

"My pillow," Draco wailed. "You broke it, and now I don't have any good one!"

"Oh, shut up," Harry was tired and tetchy, and drew the hangings closed. "You were allergic to it, anyway!"

He cast several protective spells on the bed, and glared threateningly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he smirked, and went to get something from the pocket of the trousers Draco had been wearing that day. "The coin. Have it with you, Malfoy."

"Hmh, fine," Draco murmured. "Although I doubt it works."

"Night then, you maddening git," Harry harrumphed and left for the door.

"Bad dreams, wanker," Draco mumbled after him.

Harry woke up when something began to burn in the pocket of his pajama bottoms.

"Agh, leave it out…" he moaned, very much annoyed, and wiped the sleep dust out of his eyes. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost three a.m. Then he drowsily dug out the gold galleon, which was shimmering in the moonlight. It was scorching.

Then the situation truly cleared out to him.

"Oh, shit!"

Harry jumped in his slippers faster than a panther, grabbed his cloak that lay on top of his trunk and dashed out of the dormitory. He ran like hell out of the common room portrait and down the stairs towards the Slytherin dungeons.

"For the name of Morgan le Fay, why on earth did Salazar want to locate the Slytherin common room so fucking far away? Under the _lake_, for fuck's sake…" Harry panted as he ran. "As if it couldn't have been near where Snape's vast chambers are… That selfish, crook-nosed, greasy-haired bastard… Endangering his precious students to respiratory infections…"

Harry realised then that his mind was reeling, and his train of thought was as crazy as Draco Malfoy wearing Gryffindor colours on his underpants.

"I must be really tired… Well, I just woke up, so…" Harry muttered, and massaged his temples. He was glad to find himself finally passing the Ugly Snape -portrait, and even gladder he was of the fact that there were no night crawlers to hear his unreasonable babbling.

"Hope I'm not too late… Shit, what if Crabbe or Goyle has raped him? Or the both of them? Eww…"

Harry shuddered at the thought, not really knowing why he suddenly cared. When he reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room, he jumped against it and began to bang his fists against the wooden surface like a madman.

"Let me in, let me in, I'm in a hurry," he snarled.

"_Harry!" a yell came from the other side. "_The password's Hot Demon!"__

"Hot Demon!" Harry spat, and the door opened. He stepped into the common room, only to meet a really, really disgusting sight.

Draco Malfoy was lying immovable on the floor, his pajama trousers ripped open. It seemed that the blonde was hexed to stay still, by none other than Millicent Bulstrode, who was hovering above the helpless boy with her enormous lards. She was wearing nothing but pink, little strings and lilac push-up bras. 

Harry gagged and Millicent turned her angrily gleaming eyes at him. The girl was wearing coral-coloured lipstick that stuck to her teeth, and her green eye-shadow was just plain sluttish.

"Eurgh, god damn Bulstrode, what the _hell_ are you doing?" Harry choked, and moved rapidly next to Draco, who seemed to have tears in his silvery eyes. "_Well_?" he demanded, kneeling down.

"I was giving him a strip-tease show, if you like to know," Millicent sizzled, crossing her chubby arms.

Harry laid a protective arm over Draco, and glared at Millicent. "Oh, _really?"_

"And I was just about to give him head, until you interrupted us," she pouted, looking murderous.

"I'm sure Malfoy wasn't as enthused about the idea as you were," Harry revealed his teeth at Millicent, eyes narrowing. "Seeing as he hasn't even got a hard on," he gestured towards Draco's pants.

Millicent huffed and looked proudly elsewhere. "I was going to work on that, you know."

"_Finite incantatum," Harry sighed, and released Draco from the jinx. "Just be glad that I won't hex you to the next century, Bulstrode. Now get lost."_

Millicent seemed reluctant, but when Harry raised his wand at her, she seemed to think the matter over.

"I just killed Voldemort a couple of months ago. Surely you don't wish to challenge me?"

Millicent took a last, lustful look at Draco who was now curled on the floor behind Harry's back, hugging his knees. Then she sailed away.

Harry helped Draco back to bed, supporting him from the elbow. The blonde was shuddering still, a terrified expression plastered over his delicate features, and Harry couldn't help feeling a bit worried.

"What happened, Malfoy?" he asked softly, not wanting to add more pressure on the Veela by arguing. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't leave your bed until I came to collect you in the morning?"

Draco scowled, and then crawled under his thick, black eiderdown. He turned his back at Harry. "I had to visit the Ugly Snape, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," Harry bit his lip. He obviously hadn't taken all needs in consideration. 

"I had to brush my teeth," Draco cleared out. "I forgot."

Despite himself, Harry started laughing.

"What?" Draco glared at him over his shoulder.

Harry continued to chuckle. "You're just so bloody vainglorious, Malfoy! Couldn't sleep one night without brushing your teeth, could you? Even though you knew there would be students to bounce you in the shadows of every corner?"

Draco tugged his lower lip out and crossed his arms. "Don't know about you, scar-head, but I happen to like fresh breath."

"Spoiled brat and a dandy."

"Am not!"

"Are too! Now get some sleep. I'll cast the protective charms around your bed afresh. And _don't fucking leave_ this time."

"Sucker."

Harry grinned at Draco's sulky mien, spread the warm glow of the Imperturbable Charm on Draco's bed-hangings, and closed them.

"Good night, pretty angel," Harry smirked.

"Aagh, I hate you, Potter!" a yell came from behind the canvas.

Harry left the dormitory, giggling at the seething Slytherin.__

…TBC…


	7. The Two Guardians

**7. The Two Guardians**

Harry trotted down the Slytherin staircase in a relatively good mood. The previous day felt like a distant dream to him. Now, it was a new day, the sun was shining brightly after the nightly coldness, and everything seemed less depressing. Oh! The optimistic state of a freshly awakened mind!

Harry arrived at the Slytherin common room entrance. The walls around him were seeping with moisture, since he had invaded now the very lowest of the dungeons that were situated under the lake. He remembered the password from the previous night, when the blonde Veela had shouted it to him.

"Hot Demon."

Personally, Harry thought the password was ridiculous. No doubt it was Pansy Parkinson's doing. Yet the password worked, and the portrait swung open, creaking silently in its hinges. In front of Harry opened now a whole new sight. Well, not so new when it came to the extensive common room and its decor –but the atmosphere and the amount of black and green robes and smiling faces was overwhelmingly stunning. 

Harry swore he had never seen so many Slytherins at the same time –he quite forgot that he was sharing his daily meals in the Great Hall sitting just two tables away from this very same noisy lot. But, admittedly, he never had seen them all _smiling before._

"Hey, that's Potter!" one of the third years noticed, and everybody fell silent, turning their faces towards Harry who was taking the steps down in the common room.

"Well, he's here to escort Draco, I guess," scowled Tracey Davies, sitting in Theodore Nott's lap. "But how did he get in?"

"Draco told him the password yesterday," Millicent sneered, but fell awkwardly silent after Blaise Zabini jostled her in the back rather harshly.

"Um… I'll just be going, then," Harry grimaced, and hastened through the large room towards the dormitories and the seventh year boys' room. 

Harry opened the door carefully, but it still wailed quietly. Taking a glance around, he saw that the room was lit with five torches, and it looked now considerably cosier than the previous night. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on their beds, obviously waiting for their 'boss' to wake up. 

"Hey guys," Harry greeted, but received only two venomous scowls and grunts as an answer. He decided to ignore the two idiots, and proceeded towards Draco's bed. "_Finite __Incantatum."_

The very second the wards were down two strong arms reached out from between the bed hangings, and grabbed Harry's collar. Harry yelped as he was pulled downwards, through the aforementioned hangings, and onto the bed. There, in the shadowy darkness, he met with a pair of glowing, and very angry-looking grey eyes.

"Where the _hell have you been, Potter?" Draco demanded. "I've been waiting for, like, _ages! _Look at the time, you dipwit! Half past eight! And I need to shower, get dressed, do my hair, pack up my school books, brush my teeth, take out Riddle, write a letter to my investors at Gringotts, _and_ get some fucking _breakfast_! Now tell me, Mr. Hero of the World, how I can do all that __without being late from class?!"_

"Who's Riddle?" Harry frowned.

Draco groaned. "Potter! Can't you see my point here?"

"Is it your pet?"

"Hello? I'm going to be late from Sexual Behaviour of Magical Creatures, and that's _all _your fault!"__

"Where is it?"

"Aargh!" Draco shook Harry from the shoulders. "Do you even listen to me, scarface?"

"Yeah, I do listen to you," Harry grinned. "Now, I've already visited the kitchens, so we can eat our breakfast while in the class."

"Oh… that's good. Did you take some coffee?" Draco looked worried.

"Yeah."

"And milk?"

"No."

"What's _wrong with you? I can't drink my coffee without…"_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just kidding, I've got your milk alright." Harry chuckled. He really enjoyed riling up the Slytherin git. "Now would you please get your clothes ready, we need to head for the showers straight away! And you don't need to worry about your hair –nobody ever notices how it looks like anyway." 

Draco gasped, very annoyed, but Harry continued his tirade.

"And when you're taking your shower, I can see what I can do with Riddle, whatever that is, then. Just get up now, we're wasting time. I'll get your school bag. You just hurry on and grab some clothes and your shower things." 

"What about the letter to my…?"

"We'll deal with that _later!_ Now get_ moving, you lazy ass!" Harry commanded, pointing at the half-open hangings._

Draco was about to say something more, but Harry gave him such an authoritative glare that he could not do anything but obey. After all –Harry _was his mate, damn him for that, and therefore he had the maddening, but luckily still secret power to canalize Draco's sayings and doings. Draco only hoped Harry would not find it out on his own and start using that against him. _

"Riddle's in there," he pointed at his trunk, while passing it by. "Pick him along."

Curiously Harry stood up and went to open the trunk. "Does it bite?" he joked. 

"Yeah," Draco said, pulling out fresh robes from his wardrobe.

Harry swallowed, although unnoticeably, and peered inside the dark chest.

"It's a Doxy," provided Crabbe, and Goyle chuckled, "A biting fairy."

Indeed, there was a small creature curling in the corner of the box. It was ink black, furry and winged. Tentatively, Harry poked it with his index, and it yawned.

"His name's Riddle," Goyle said.

"…I know!" Harry gave him a look. 

"Oh."

"Well, can I just take it in my hand?" Harry asked.

"No, only Draco can take him," Crabbe smirked. "He bites everyone else."

"He does not," Draco scowled, throwing his shampoo and shower gel into a small bag. "It doesn't bite Snape."

Immediately, when hearing Draco's voice, Crabbe and Goyle's attention returned back to the Veela. Their faces fell into a dream-like state, and they leaned against each other's shoulder, eating their leader with their gaze. Harry rolled his eyes, and reached out his hand towards the Doxy, ignoring the two stupid lard-heaps. As long as it they were just staring, he wouldn't hex them.

"Potter, get Riddle and let's go," Draco said, clearly annoyed about the staring contest of Crabbe and Goyle more than what Harry was.

"But will it bite me?" Harry scowled.

Draco sighed. "I promise you, Potter, that if it doesn't, then I will!"

Harry bit his lip as a weird mental image of Draco biting his fingers intruded his brain. Then he shook it off, and pushed his hand in the trunk. Carefully, he lifted the Doxy up and placed it on his soft palm. It was only two inches tall, and was now intriguingly staring up at Harry with its ember eyes.

It didn't bite him.

"Come _on," Draco whined, and yanked Harry's sleeve. "We're already late!"_

Harry was sitting in front of the Slytherin bathroom entrance. He was leaning against the locked, wooden door, playing with the weird magical creature in his hand. 

"Riddle me this, Riddle me that…" he smiled at the four-legged and four-armed fairy-like Doxy.

The Doxy spread its beetle-like, shining wings and started to curry them clean.

"Do you always bathe at the same time than your owner?" Harry asked the creature, even though he knew the little pixie could not understand.  

The Doxy smiled, however, revealing a dangerous-looking line of razor-sharp teeth. Harry tried to look unaffected.

"Hey, what're you doing here?" a voice asked, and a pair of shoes emerged in Harry's vision. "Why are you sitting in front of that door?"

"I'm watching over Malfoy's shower," Harry replied, meeting the contemptuous face of Theodore Nott.

"Well, you can't just stay there, because I must shower, too. Let me pass."

"Uh, no can do, Nott," Harry straightened up, placing the Doxy on his shoulder. "Nobody's going to shower there now, except for Dra… Malfoy."

"That is a common shower room, Potter, you can't just block somebody out of there!" Theodore was getting angry.

Harry chewed his lip; Theodore was kind of right there. But still…What would follow if Harry let the Slytherin enter? 

"Um… Can't you just … well…. wait another fifteen minutes or so? I'm sure the shower's free after that," he suggested.

"No I can't, you stupid Gryffindor twat! In case you haven't noticed, I'm already skipping the breakfast to get myself showered and clean before the classes start, so no, I don't think I have the extra fifteen minutes!"

They glared at each other for a few seconds, both wanting to keep their stand; but Harry knew that Theodore had every reason and right to have his way. He was a Slytherin student, and these were common Slytherin showers.

"Okay… Let's go in. But I'm coming with you," Harry finally gave up.

"Ooh, I never knew the Boy Who Lived was a voyeur," Theodore smirked.

Harry gave Theodore a look but didn't say anything. Then he knocked on the door. "Drac… er… Malfoy?"

"What now?" the blonde boy snapped.

"Um… Nott wants to have a shower, too. So we're coming in, now."

"Can't he bloody shower someplace else?" 

"He doesn't want to. And he doesn't have much time to find another place, either."

"Alright, fine," Draco growled, after a few silent moments. "Just don't get all too excited about me, then."

Harry snorted, "As if that could _ever_ happen, you stuck-up moron."

"Insolent cretin," Draco muttered, as Harry pushed the door open.

"Always so cheerful to be around you two," Theodore grinned, and started to undress. "I'm surprised you're both still alive."

"That would be because we aren't allowed to kill each other," Draco snarled from the shower cubicle. "If something happens to me, Potter's responsible for it straight to Dumbledore, and on my part, I am not allowed to use my… er… persuasive skills to any extent where they could cause physical harm to someone."

"Well, that quite sums it up," Theodore's eyes twinkled. Harry felt very disturbed when the Slytherin started to kick off his trousers. "But I'll have you know, this whole situation is just ridiculous. It's so weird to see you two hanging around each other so… compatibly."

"Is that so?" Harry sounded bored, and petted the Doxy.

"Potter's just secretly happy to share my civilized and witty company," Draco said, poking his head out from the shower. "He's trying to improve his character."

"The hell I am," Harry scowled. "It is more than regrettable if I get any influence from _you." _

Draco shook his head, water spattering all over from his soaking locks, and also on Harry's face. 

"Eww, Malfoy!" Harry wiped the water out of his eyeglasses.

Draco laughed. Harry shot him a glare, but soon found himself strangely enchanted by the Veela's laughter. Actually, he was now unable to take his eyes off Draco's face. The wet, purely white hair was falling over the blonde's eyes and cheeks, making him look so much different from his usual, arrogant self, and the grey eyes were bright and profound, sending shivers down Harry's spine. But how was that possible? Wasn't Harry supposed to be immune towards Draco's charms? 

"Earth calling Potter," Draco smirked.

"Oh," Harry woke up from his trance. "I… I was just wondering what that white substance on your jaw is. Did we… er… interrupt you on a bad moment, perhaps?"

Draco's hand shot upwards to touch his chin. This, however, led to the fact that the shower curtain he'd been holding to cover his lower body parts, unceremoniously fell aside, revealing more than what Harry had expected to see when entering the bathroom.

"It's just shampoo, Potter," Draco said, rubbing out the white essence from his face. "Therefore, _no_, I was _not having a wank here, you pervert!"_

"Uh… I'm… just… going to… er… yeah," Theodore coughed, his eyes bulging out from their sockets with the sight of a naked Draco Malfoy, and disappeared into his own shower booth. 

Harry turned his eyes quickly away from Draco, too, and blushed.  
"What? I'm not _that_ ugly!" Draco pouted and disappeared behind the shower curtain once again, to rinse his hair.

"No, not ugly at all…" Harry swallowed, quietly. Then he turned around to stare at his own eyes through the mirror. "What the fuck is happening to me?" he whispered. 

"Potter?" it was Theodore.

"Yeah?" Harry answered, squeezing the rim of the sink with white knuckles. He sincerely hoped that Nott hadn't heard his silent words.

The Slytherin boy twined a towel around his waist and advanced towards Harry. "Hey… I accidentally overheard those friends of yours, Weasel and Granger, last night," he spoke with soft tones, so that Draco wasn't able to hear.

"Weasley," Harry corrected, frowning.

"Whatever," Theodore waved his hand impatiently. "What I wanted to ask you… Is it true that you're trying to find the right mate for Draco?"

Harry looked surprised. "Um… I guess…"

"Great!" Theodore grinned. "I mean… I just…" the Slytherin fidgeted his fingers. "Could you give me a chance with him?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "A chance?"

"Yeah," Theodore gained back his self-control, and straightened his back. "I'd like to know if I could be a match for him."

"Well…" Harry leaned against the sink and looked at Theodore in an evaluating way, crossing his arms. "But you're a boy!"

"So what?" Theodore scowled.

"We don't know if Malfoy's even gay!" Harry exclaimed, in a hushed tone.

"Well why don't we find out, hmm?" Theodore smirked. "Please, Potter."

Harry looked in the deep blue eyes of the Slytherin, and sighed. "Alright, fine."

Theodore gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you."

"I will go outside for a couple of minutes," Harry stepped forwards. "But don't get too excited, okay? I promise you that I will hex you _so bad if…"_

"Don't worry," Theodore laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll be good."

Harry only nodded, and slowly walked out of the bathroom, closing the door silently behind him. 

Draco leaned against the green wall in the shower. He closed his eyes, and let out a long exhale. Okay, so he had 'accidentally' dropped the shower curtain aside, right in front of Potter. Damn his damned Veela hormones! Potter must now think that he's completely mad. Oh, wait –nothing new there. Anyway… That had been completely out of line. 

"_Did we interrupt you on a bad moment?" Draco mimicked Potter, with a squeaky voice, and stuck his tongue out. "His so-called jokes are getting more and more stupid," he muttered, and directed the hot water against his face. "Bloody Gryffindor prat…"_

"Draco?" somebody asked, and Draco heard his shower curtain being pushed aside.

"What now, Potter?" he growled, not bothering to open his eyes. The water was humming nicely in his ears, and he even opened his mouth to taste some of it. 

"Not Potter, but me," Theodore Nott stepped inside Draco's cubicle and closed the curtain behind him.

Draco's eyes snapped open instantly, and he slammed the water tap closed. "You! What the _fuck_ are you doing in my shower? Get out! Potter!"

"Don't get so crazy about this," Theodore closed Draco's mouth with his hand, stepping even closer. "I don't want to hurt you. I just… I just wanted to test if there was any chemistry between us. You know… If I could be your mate, possibly?"

Draco bit Theodore's fingers and the boy yelped, taking away his hand. "There is not any chemistry. You're not my mate. Now _get lost_!"

"Aw, come on, Drake… Give me a chance, will you?" Theodore pleaded. "Or is it that you're not interested in boys?"

"Nott, for the information of your pathetic, puny brain, the Veela can't choose their mates. They can't choose if they're girls or boys, they can't choose if they're fucking vampires! But one thing is sure. They always know who their mate is, the very second they come across with them. So believe me when I say it. You are _not_ my mate."

"Don't lie to yourself, Draco. You shouldn't suffocate your desires only because I happen to be a boy. I promise you, I can make it worthwhile…"

Only now Draco realised he was alone in the shower booth with a boy, who was five inches taller than him, and whose dripping erection was almost pressing into his abdomen. His eyes widened with shock. 

"Potter! What the _hell's wrong with you_? Why did you let this madman into my… mmmffff!"

Theodore captured Draco's lips with his own, greedy ones, and thrust his hips against Draco. Draco growled angrily in his throat and tried to push the other Slytherin away, scraping and beating his arms. But it was useless –Theodore was the stronger one of them two. Besides, their bodies were still so wet that they were also slippery, which didn't help Draco's escape attempts at all –in fact, it got him even closer to Theodore, if possible. 

"Don't you like it, Draco?" Theodore smiled gently down at the blonde boy, and started to rub Draco's lower back. 

"POTTER! WHERE THE _FUCK_ ARE YOU!" Draco shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Theodore grabbed Draco's jaw angrily, and pressed their noses together. "Potter's not here. He left me alone with you."

"W-w-what?" Draco's eyes dilated. 

"Oh, yes…" Theodore was smirking now. "Potter wanted to give me the chance to find out if I was your mate or not."

"Fuck! I'll _kill_ that fucking Gryffindor _idiot!" Draco yelled, and kicked Theodore in the groin. "And you! Get off me, you slut! __You're not my mate!"_

Theodore hissed in pain and doubled over. Draco used this opportunity to escape the cubicle. He dashed out of the shower and plunged for his towel that was hanging on the wall. But when he was just about to reach his hand on the door handle, he was tripped by Theodore, and he fell on his stomach on the floor. Theodore swiftly went to sit on his legs and pressed his torso down with his strong hands. They were both still stark naked. 

"Potter…" Draco tried to shout, but all the air had escaped his lungs at the downfall, and his voice came out only as a pitiable squeal.

"Mwhahaahaa," Theodore chuckled, and heaved himself a little bit more upwards, closer to Draco's buttocks. "This looks nice."

Draco's cheek and temple were pressed against the cold and wet shower floor, and he was trying to concentrate on breathing. Theodore's hands were roaming over his back, sending disgusting shivers all over his body. 

"Potter…" he tried again, tears welling in his eyes.

"He can't hear you…" Theodore teased. "And even if he did… I've locked the bathroom door with the _Colloportus _charm. He won't be able to…!"

_Wham! _The bathroom door burst open, slamming harshly against the wall. Harry was standing in the doorway, his eyes flaming with anger and loathing. He was pointing his wand straight at Theodore.

"Nott… I should've known!"

"Hey, don't get hasty, I'm just giving a… um… massage to my new boyfriend?" Theodore tried to smile, and began to smooth Draco's shoulder blades. 

"Potter…" Draco hissed, obviously gaining back his voice, now. "You fucking _idiot…"_

Both Theodore and Harry gasped in horror when suddenly something black started to sprout out of the very shoulder blades that the brown-haired Slytherin was massaging. 

"I'm so angry that I could _kill_ you Potter…" Draco breathed again, and lifted himself on his elbows. "Don't you have _any brain cells in that ugly head of yours? How _could_ you! __How could you leave us here like this?"_

Theodore screamed with fright when two pitch-black wings sprouted out of Draco's back, right in front of his face. The sharp ends of the bat-like extensions stabbed him in painfully in the chest when they spread in their magnificent width, and he stumbled away from the Veela. Blood was dripping down his abs.

"What did you think you were _doing_!" Draco now pushed himself up on his knees, and stared fiercely at Harry. His teeth were as sharp as his Doxy's teeth were, and he was ready to tear somebody –more precisely Potter –into itsy bitsy pieces.

Harry was so panic-stricken that he accidentally dropped his wand. "I… I… I'm sorry…" he stammered, and took a few steps backwards, when Draco started to crawl towards him. The Slytherin Veela now looked very wild, his alabaster white, glowing skin contrasting with the sinfully black wings. 

"Damn right you should be _sorry!"_ Draco hissed, and leapt forwards, capturing Harry's wand from the floor. "What makes you think I won't hurt you now real bad?"

The Doxy was having a feast on Harry's shoulder. It was dancing and giggling like mad. Obviously it had seen something like this before.

"Please, Malfoy… Draco?" Harry shuddered under the stare of the Veela's eyes. "I… I won't do it again… I promise… I was stupid, I know…"

"Just shut the fuck up!" Draco growled. "You're making a fool out of yourself."

Draco tossed the wand back at Harry, who caught it with his seeker reflexes. Then the Veela turned around, still kneeling on the floor, and faced Theodore. "And you… You're disgusting. Get out!" 

Theodore could not do anything but nod frantically. Hastily, he grabbed his towel from the wall and his clothes from the bench, and ran out of the room, almost knocking Harry over as he went.

"And go see Pomfrey with those stabs!" Draco yelled after him, before collapsing down and starting to massage his temples.

A nightmare… His life was a nightmare. What bad had he ever done to deserve this? Oh, no… Not going there _again._ He knew exactly what all he'd done, and he didn't need a reminder just now.

"Potter, don't you _ever _again leave me like that!" he sizzled instead, his whole body shuddering with raw fury.

"Not ever, I promise," Harry gulped. "Never!"

"Not ever _before I get my __medicine, you idiot!" Draco yelled at the Gryffindor's face. "We're not getting married or anything!"_

Harry looked astounded at Draco's outburst. "I… I didn't think we were."

"I know!" Draco shouted, now even more heatedly if possible. His body was getting hot… He felt like burning… And he knew that meant only one thing: he would soon be having the hardest erection of all time. Potter, the damned, green-eyed pretty mate of his… No! Draco grabbed his towel angrily and wrapped it around his waist. 

Harry looked confused, and a little bit scared. "Draco?"

The Veela forced himself to calm down. He took several deep breaths and concentrated on his body. With the power of his will, he forced the terrifying wings to retreat back into his shoulder blades, and his teeth to become normal again. 

"I'm just fine, Potter," he finally exhaled. Then he stood up, and grabbed Harry's robes. "But you're not," he smirked.

It was miserable, really, to stand there in the cool wind with wet clothes. Sexual Behaviour of Magical Creatures had just begun, and Harry was shivering all over. 

"Serves you right," Draco had pointed out to him just moments before, and Harry knew the Slytherin was right. Therefore, he wasn't complaining out loud.

"We will be studyin' Medusas terday," Hagrid was explaining, frantically gesturing towards the odd, little shed in front of them. "Yeh better get in."

Harry heard Pansy Parkinson explain that the shed was transfigured as a humid swamp from the inside, to make the surroundings ideal for the Medusas. She was right, Harry noticed, when stepping inside and almost spraining his ankle on the suddenly soft-gone ground. Draco, however, naturally held his grace when entering, and was followed by twenty-three pairs of admiring eyes. 

Harry and Draco settled on the mossy ground with the other students, Draco looking worried for his robes and Harry looking plain cold. 

"Where's my breakfast?" Draco asked, poking Harry in the shoulder. "I'm starving."

Snuffing his red-gone nose, Harry reached in his pocket, and pulled out a small bag. "It's your own fault if it's all soaking wet, then," he huffed. "_Engorgio!"_

A vacuum bottle, a small milk carton and a bag of sandwiches emerged in real size from the bag. Draco immediately dove for the sandwiches.

"Mmm… Good, how did you know that I like tuna sandwiches the most?" he purred, when taking huge bites of the bread.

"Eh… I like them myself?" Harry grinned. 

Draco raised his brows at this, but wasn't able to comment anything, because Hagrid then revealed the Medusas and started talking. 

Truth be told, he medusas were rather bizarre creatures in Harry's opinion. They were half snakes and half women, their skin was greyish-green, warm and scaly, and their hair was formed of hundreds of little slim snakes. Their teeth were spiky and their eyes were intelligent and vivid, ready to petrify anybody who dared to insult them. Hagrid, needless to say, was charmed by them beyond any reason. 

Harry, instead, was rather disinterested –after all, he already had one weird life species under his care, in the snobbish, aristocratic form of Draco Malfoy. And this, if nothing else, was sure to evoke enough excitement and awareness for the rest of his school year in itself. Even in the field of sexual behaviour, if anything from the morning's shower episode was to be concluded.

Harry looked at the blonde boy deep in thought. Yes, he would have to start finding Draco a mate, and fast. It was only the second day since his exposure, and already he was beginning to feel like an overly-heavy burden on Harry's shoulders. Well, actually that was nothing to wonder about –it was hardly a secret that Harry and Draco hated one another. It was generally acknowledged that they did not get along too well. And now, when they were both forced to cooperate, forced to act along the lines of civility in their behaviour towards each other… Harry sighed. It was not going well. It was merely beginning to remind a ridiculous farce, a pitiful act of two helpless marionettes whose actions were guided by both Dumbledore's strict orders and Draco's Veela instincts. 

Harry looked at down at his robes. They were soaking wet. Draco had pushed him under a shower after the Nott-incident, as a little revenge. Harry felt unreal, thinking about the whole thing. The black wings and the glowing skin… And now, there were no traces of any inhuman additions to body parts. Instead, Harry could see nothing but a relatively pretty young man, in the verge of paranoia, glancing around him constantly, drinking coffee, and trying to keep watch that nobody attacked him. Harry narrowed his eyes. It was true, Draco was a coward and a wimp. But oddly enough, this feature in the most feared and adored Slytherin had not done any harm to his reputation –if possible, it had only added Draco Malfoy's charisma, so that they were now in the level incompatible by anybody else.

"What are you staring at, Potter?" Draco asked. "My charms are starting to affect you, finally?"

"No," a small smile lingered in Harry's lips as he looked at Draco. "I'm just enjoying your discomfort."

"Well, enjoy while you still can. But let me have you know, if Hagrid starts advancing me with something else than that lustful stare of his, I promise you it won't be a funny job for you to keep him away from me."

"Well maybe you should stop being such a common flirt," Harry interrupted, snorting. "You're barely helping yourself with those stunts of yours. Wings, for heaven's sake! Couldn't you have kept it in a more subdued level, you ponce?"

"Excuse me! I couldn't help it! Everything that happened was for self-protection only!" Draco snarled, in a half-whisper, so that they wouldn't have disturbed the class. "Self-protection, because _you_ had left me _alone!_ You better not do that again, by the way. Not during this class, anyway. We all know how Hagrid feels deeply attracted towards everything that even remotely reminds a magical beast!"

"So you admit you're a magical beast!" Harry laughed silently.

Draco sizzled. "I am NOT! I am as human as you are!"

"Er… No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"Am too!" Draco's hands curled into fists. "I am a human being. Perhaps a little distinguished version from one, but still a human being."

Harry knew not to argue anymore about the subject –Draco's teeth were already sharpening slightly. Clearly, this was a sore spot for Draco. Clearly, the Slytherin did not want to be classified as anything even slightly 'animal' or 'inhuman'. Harry looked at the pouting face of his arch enemy, and grinned. 

"Did you know you have freckles?"

Draco's eyes widened with horror. "I do _not_ have freckles!"

"Yes, you do," Harry chuckled.

"I do not!" Draco started to feel his face. "_I do not have freckles_!"

Harry laughed now right at Draco's face. "Don't worry, Malfoy, they make you look kind of softer… almost kind."

This, if anything, made Draco look even more horrified. In fact, he was so shocked that he couldn't get a word out of his mouth. Harry watched in amusement as the Slytherin pulled the hood of his cloak up and covered himself as deep as possible in the shadows of the canvas. 

Then, out of nowhere, somebody came and grabbed Draco's arm, sitting right beside him. Harry was immediately alarmed, and he leapt closer to Draco in mere seconds.

"Zabini, what do you want?" Harry asked, drawing out his wand even before either of the Slytherins had had the chance to say a word.

"I would just like to have a word with Draco, if that is okay with you, Mr. Potter," Blaise Zabini drawled, bowing mockingly at Harry's direction. "Or are there some new rules that forbid Draco associating with his classmates?"

"No," Harry grunted. "Just… keep your hands to yourself."

"Jealous?" Blaise raised a brow at Harry, then ignored him completely and turned to Draco. "How are you doing?"

Draco pulled the hood down again, looking a little surprised, but not anyhow displeased by the interruption. "Been better."

"I understand that Millicent tried something on you yesterday night," Blaise looked revolted. "Disgusting bitch. No manners at all."

Draco only shrugged. "Well… It wasn't really her fault, you know."

"The hell it wasn't!" Blaise huffed. "Look, I know the situation. I know that you are a half Veela. I know that you're radiating this… this weird charm that makes people go bloody wild. But still, it shouldn't mean that you should be threatened. It is the other people who should learn how to control themselves!"

"Thank you, Blaise, but I think you're quite missing the point, here," Draco looked frustrated. "They _can't_ help themselves. Therefore, I don't blame Millicent. No, I only blame my ancestors… and Potter, of course."

Draco frowned at Harry's direction, and Harry frowned back. Blaise looked at them both with evil amusement.

"Draco… I'm worried about you. I'm your friend, and I want us to stay that way, even despite this new situation. It's driving me crazy, to have Crabbe and Goyle as my only company… You know how much Theodore spends his time with Tracey nowadays."

Both Harry and Draco snorted at the same time, which was quite comical, really.

"And, well…" Blaise continued, looking at them both suspiciously, "I just thought that you might like my company, too, when it's quite obvious that you have only the Saint Potter to entertain you now –and I am sure he's more like a burden than a good friend."

Draco looked at Blaise suspiciously, but a little gleam of hope in his eyes. "Well, Blaise, you're right in one thing, at least. I wouldn't mind to have some other company than Potter. But there is just one little problem."

"And what's that?"

"I don't want you to jump me." 

"Draco… I promise you, I have no intentions to spoil our friendship by attacking you. I know how to control myself."

"So… You're saying that you don't feel at all like bouncing me?"

"Don't be stupid," Blaise huffed. "Of course I would love to bounce you and fuck your brains out. But there's just the difference –I won't force you to anything you don't like."

Draco seemed to contemplate Blaise's words. Surely it would not be bad if there was somebody to distract his thoughts from Potter? Draco shuddered, remembering the morning, when he'd almost… Not going there.  

"Welcome to our little group, Blaise." Draco said, sneering at Harry's direction. "It's just too bad we can't get rid of Har… Potter, because he's my guardian, but I think we'll get along with him, somehow." 

Harry glared, but Draco ignored him. Blaise looked happy.

"We could always think he's your male servant… a slave, kind of," Blaise smirked. "Maybe we should get him a collar and a leash?"

Draco choked at the thought, and his cheeks flushed. He did not want to think about anything that brought images of Harry Potter, shadowy bedroom and heavy bondage sex in his mind. His Veela instincts kicked strongly in and he needed to close his eyes to get himself under control… to get his hands back into his pockets instead of nearly grabbing Harry's arse.

Harry, meanwhile, looked purely disgusted. "Zabini, in case you didn't know, I am not Malfoy's servant or anything, I am his _protector_."

"Protector, eh?" Blaise looked poisonous. "Well, in that case, there are two of us. Let's see which one of us Draco trusts the most!"

"You are challenging me?" Harry's eyes flashed.

"Yeah," Blaise looked confident and arrogant.

"Zabini, you're nuts," Harry looked bored. "I'm not interested in your childish games. All I want is that Malfoy gets his medicine from India as soon as possible, so that we can both be released from these stupid orders that bind us together."

Draco looked like ready to suffocate. 

"Malfoy, are you alright?" Harry asked silently, furrowing his brows and grabbing his shoulder.

Draco's eyes flashed open, and both Harry and Blaise gasped when finding them sharply glowing. Draco hastily pulled the hood back up. "I am perfectly fine. Just… Fuck off, the both of you."

Harry and Blaise exchanged confused looks, but knew well enough not to take the Veela's orders literally. Especially when Hagrid was now advancing towards them.

After the morning classes, when sitting at the lunch table with the Slytherins, Harry received an owl from Professor Snape. The small and even scrawl told that Madame Pomfrey had succeeded to heal Theodore Nott's wounds just perfectly well, but, because Harry had let this incident to happen in the first place, twenty points would be taken from Gryffindor. 

And what was more; Harry's belongings would be moved into the Slytherin dungeons –already tonight.

…TBC…


	8. Black Maria

A/N: Thank you **Drone 233248** for your constructive review. I will be explaining why Draco attracts both genders, and not just girls, in this chapter. Without you, however, this conflict might've been left unnoticed and unexplained.

A/N II: Although there are implications towards possible MPREG, I won't be writing about male pregnancy in this story. If anyone wants that kind of stuff, maybe a sequel? Hmm.

**8. Black Maria**

It was eight o'clock in the afternoon. Harry Potter was bustling and fussing in the middle of his dormitory room, carelessly tossing his belongings into his trunk that would shortly be delivered down the staircases and into the Slytherin dungeons. 

"I can't believe this, mate," Ron shook his head. "So soon!"

"It's my own fault, Ron," Harry grunted. "Maybe Malfoy's right. I _am_ bloody stupid."

"No, you're not," said Hermione, who was currently visiting the boys' dormitory. "You were just trying to act accordingly to our plan."

"Yeah," Ron chorused, patting Harry's back. "You had only good intentions. You were just trying to do that git a favour!"

"A real favour it was," Harry huffed, looking sombre. "Nott almost… No, I don't even want to think about it! Eurgh!"

"Why is it that Malfoy attracts men in the first place?" Ron asked, frowning. "You know female Veela do not affect girls, so why would a male Veela affect the both genders?"

"It's because of their unique physique," Hermione knowingly started to explain. "Female Veela can't produce children with another female, it's just impossible. But it's different with male Veela. You see, male Veela can be both the father and the mother for a Veela child. That is why the range of their sex appeal is wider than that of the females."

"Talk English, 'Mione," Ron rolled his eyes. 

"What I am saying is that, in addition to the obvious fact that Malfoy can conceive a child with a woman, he also can get pregnant himself, and have a child with another man. That's why he attracts also the male students in our school."

Harry grimaced. "That... That's _gross_."

"Very disturbing," Ron looked seriously ill. 

"Well, it's the fact, believe it or not," Hermione crossed her arms and looked smug. "Male Veela are so very rare that this ability was generously given to them by a long-term evolution. And, to return to our previous subject, this is exactly why you did quite the right thing, Harry, for letting Theodore try his luck with Malfoy. Malfoy may not think himself gay, but if his mate really happens to be a male, he can't help it, and he definitely should check out the boys, too."

"Uh… I guess you're right," Harry examined his almost-full trunk with dismay, furrowing his brows. "But I should be more careful. I don't want anything to happen to him. I'm sick and tired of getting into trouble because of him."

"We must make a plan," Hermione looked eager, rubbing her hands together.

Harry looked disgusted. "I am disgusted."

"Well, how many weeks it is until the medicine arrives?" Ron started to count. "Three? Four?" 

"How the hell would I know?" Harry spread his arms in despair. "All I know is that I want to get rid of this job _right now_! I don't exactly fancy the idea of spending the next month in the dungeons, living among those sick and twisted Slytherins… How the _hell_ can I live through that time? Do I have to keep my wand ready under my pillow every time I go to sleep?"

"That could be wise," said Ron, looking at Harry seriously.

"Aaaaagh! This is getting plain ridiculous," Harry moaned, and dropped his tired body flaccidly on his bed. "How can I protect _both_ Malfoy and myself down there _and_ survive this school year though? My grades are in danger."

Hermione looked extremely worried. "You have a good point there, Harry. Your school will suffer. Imagine that you already had to change your subjects because of that irritating, snobby slime ball. Unbelievable! I sometimes wonder if there's any logic or reason with the policy of this school. I don't understand half the decisions Dumbledore makes."

"Don't even try," Harry spoke into his pillow. 

"So, anyway… here's the plan," Hermione smiled and stood up, starting to pace back and forth in the room. "Ron and I will start gathering names."

"_Names?" Ron looked confused. "Hermione, don't include me to anything I might not like."_

"We'll gather the names of those students who are interested in Malfoy," Hermione explained. "And then we try to arrange proper situations."

"No list is needed," Harry dully remarked, "Unless you plan on listing the whole school, from the youngest first year to Dumbledore himself."

"Ew," Ron shoved his tongue out.

"Well, we must start _somewhere,_ now don't we?" Hermione looked indignant.

Harry turned around and met her determined, hazel eyes. He sighed. "Alright, fine… Whatever."

Just as Hermione was about to start talking about her plans again, the door of the dorm room swung open and Professor McGonagall stepped in. "Are you ready, Mr. Potter?"

Harry rose up from his bed and smoothed his robes. "As ready as I can be, Professor."

"This is very unnerving," McGonagall looked actually sorry. "But I cannot help you. These are the Headmasters' orders."

"I think I can manage, Professor," Harry waved his hand dismissively. "After all, I was pretty close to being sorted into Slytherin in the first place. Now I only get to know if I really could've made it there."

McGonagall didn't seem to understand completely what Harry was saying, but Hermione and Ron rolled their eyes in dismay. Harry looked just smiled tensely, and grabbed Hedwig's cage that was now empty. "Shall we go, Professor?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Get your trunk, Mr. Potter, and follow me. Professor Snape is already waiting for us in the Entrance Hall," McGonagall turned on her heel and marched out of the dormitory. 

Harry raised his wand. "_Locomotor__ trunk," he pointed at his trunk, and guided the floating chest out of the dormitory. "Uh… bye then," he nodded at his two best friends, smiling sourly. Then he hastened after McGonagall._

"You'll be hearing from us soon, Harry," Hermione shouted after him, encouragingly. "Don't give up!"

"And remember to keep your wand close to you," Ron reminded.

"Yeah, yeah…" Harry shook his head, and sulked all the way down the stairs.

"Don't look so discouraged, Mr. Potter," McGonagall tried a smile. "It shall only be a few weeks."

Harry sighed. McGonagall was right. Maybe he really shouldn't feel so miserable about this all. He had no real reason to be so pessimistic, had he? After all, he should've gotten used to this kind of bad luck by now. Wasn't it already a fact that Harry Potter's every school year had to be anything but normal? 

Harry braced himself, and straightened his pose.

He wouldn't give up. He would live to tell the tale. _And_ keep his sanity, as well.

**

Draco was crusty and irascible. He was standing next to Professor Snape in the Entrance Hall, desperately trying to not bite his nails in nervousness and anger. He was wearing nothing but black, to match his current mood. 

"Professor, this really isn't necessary," he tried, the thousandth time. "I don't need Potter down there. _Honestly_."

"Mr. Malfoy, how many times do I have to tell you?" Snape looked pained. "It is not my decision. It is the Headmaster who decided this. Rest assured, if Potter's fate rested with me, I would be more than happy to lock him up to the Gryffindor tower for the rest of his life!"

Draco conjured up a little whirlwind, to amuse himself, and directed it over Snape's head. The gentle wafts tousled the Potions masters' oily hair and the crook-nosed man cursed. "Drac… Mr. Malfoy, would you _please_ behave yourself!"

"Aw, Sev, come on," Draco whined, leaning sullenly against the wall. "I know you can do something about this. Talk to Dumbledore. Please? I'm sure, if he thinks about this real hard, he will notice that the Slytherin dungeons are not exactly the right kind of place for his golden boy to live in."

Snape grunted, flattening his greasy hair back to its usual, lank position. "Alright, _fine_. I will _try. But I cannot promise you anything."_

"Good enough," Draco diminished the little whirlpool and attempted a little grin.

"Here they are," Snape muttered, taking an arrogant pose and turning to face the stairs that led to the upper floors of the castle. "Minerva… and Mr. Potter," he greeted with his most acidic scowl.

Draco glared at Harry. The Gryffindor was wearing a horrible, red turtle-neck pullover under his robes, which almost made Draco vomit there and then. The delicate Malfoy eyes could not hold the offensive sight any longer than a couple of seconds and, shuddering with abhorrence, Draco turned his attention to McGonagall.

"You will take Mr. Potter down to his new room, Severus?" McGonagall spoke rigidly, eyeing the Potions master sceptically.

"I will," Snape answered, his lips curling lopsidedly into a small smirk. "And I will give him a short presentation about the habits of his new house, too."

"Slytherin is not my new house!" Harry protested.

"Silence," Snape snarled. "Slytherin is your new house for the next few weeks, and you _will_ behave like one of us. Rule number one: don't ever speak to the Head of the House –that is _me –unless especially given permission to do so."_

"Aye, sir," Harry answered, mockingly. 

"Mr. Malfoy, how are you doing?" McGonagall asked suddenly, eyeing the blonde in a curious way.

"Peachy," Draco grumbled, derisively.

McGonagall took a few steps closer to him. "You… Are you… sure that…?" she started, but then her irises started to dilate in an eerie way, and she couldn't speak anymore. Timidly, the old woman raised her hand to touch Draco's radiant white hair. 

"Aargh!" Draco shouted and jumped out of McGonagall's reach. "_Professor_!"

Harry was trying to bite back his laughter, however not doing a very good job. 

Snape looked at McGonagall most disapprovingly. "Minerva, come into your senses," he snapped.

McGonagall, however, wasn't hearing him. "Mr. Malfoy…" she said, in a soft, far-away voice, and tried to go after Draco, "…what a beautiful boy you are…"

"Eeeeew!" Harry and Draco gagged simultaneously, Harry also laughing.

"Minerva!" Snape waved a hand in front of her face. "_Minerva_!"

In vain; the poor old woman was completely under Draco's tantalising influence. 

"Draco, go out of sight, you're _killing_ her," the Potions master sizzled. "Her pulse cannot stay this way; she'll get a heart attack. Potter! Take your stuff and follow Mr. Malfoy into the common room. _Now_!"

Draco, being very disgusted with the idea of having Professor McGonagall drooling over him, hastily obliged. Harry followed him close, levitating his heavy trunk behind him.

"Wait, Malfoy!" Harry panted, running down the staircase, trying not to stumble over his feet. "What was all that?"

"What was all that?" Draco echoed the question, whirling around, looking at Harry furiously. "Didn't you just _see_ her? She went _wild_! Over _me! And she's __five times my age! Out-and-out _revolting_!"_

"Uh… yeah," Harry tried to maintain a straight face. "It was kind of… um… disturbing."

"You were _laughing_ at us, you perverted beast!" Draco growled. 

Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing right then and there, again. "Yeah… whahahahaha… I was… hahahahaha!"

Draco cracked his knuckles, "I am warning you, Potter…"

"Hahahahahahaa…" Harry clutched his stomach and laughed even harder. "It was so… _Eurgh!… Hahaahaaahhaha… But w-w-why wasn't S-s-snape drooling over you? Hahaha!"_

"For your information, you twat, Snape made a potion for himself," Draco looked very irritated. "It's a really difficult potion to brew, and the ingredients are really rare, but he made it just for this day, because we needed to talk."

Harry tried to gather himself together. "Umm… talk? What about?"

"Hardly any of your business, scarhead," Draco grunted. "Now get your lazy ass moving and drag your stuff into the common room. We must wait Snape there."

Still chuckling, Harry complied, and they walked in a relatively peaceful silence at the Slytherin portrait. 

"_Lanigiro_," Draco told the door, and it opened.

"The password's changed?" Harry asked. 

"Yes," answered Draco, shortly.

"Okay," Harry shrugged. "Better than the old one, anyway."

"Yes."

"Am I going to move in the same room with you, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini?"

"Yes."

"And I guess that I will have to spend my evenings with you guys from now on?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask Ron and Hermione for a visit, sometimes?"

"No! Potter, stop asking stupid questions and be silent, will you!" Draco was in the verge of going mad. "You're giving me a head-ache."

"Okay," Harry said, and sat down on one of the green, plush arm-chairs. 

"Good," Draco sat in the chair next to him. "Now, we'll wait Snape."

**

Harry stared at the small book of rules in his hand, eyes wide. "A Slytherin's Guide to Irreproachable Behaviour?" he asked, turning to look at Draco in bewilderment. 

Snape had just left the two of them in the common room alone, after a fifteen minutes' lecture about how Harry should behave himself down in the Potions Master's Kingdom.

"It's rather interesting, really," Draco smirked at Harry's appalled expression. "Snape's written it himself. You might want to take a look at the page seventeen."

"What's on the page seventeen?" Harry was curious, and started to flip through the pages.

"See for yourself," Draco was amused.

Harry turned the last three or four pages, and finally reached the right entry. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he read the headline. "Refined Sexual Behaviour? He teaches his students _sexual behaviour_? Um, I mean, _he _teaches his students sexual behaviour?"

"From the very first year on," Draco chuckled. 

"May I just ask you, how in the hell does he know anything about sexual relationships?" Harry sniffed sarcastically. "It's not like he had a wife, or anything."

"Maybe he sleeps with the students, occasionally? Or with McGonagall?" Draco joked.

"God-awful!" Harry gagged. 

Draco started to snigger, and Harry turned his attention back to the book. He read some of the advice, unable to believe his eyes.

"Aww… is ickle Harrykins blushing?" Draco giggled. "Is the text too shocking? Has our little Hero Boy never heard before what there is under the girls' robes?"

Harry, who indeed had been blushing after reading some of the advice, felt suddenly very angry. 

"You're one to make fun of _me_, Malfoy," he said, scornfully, and smirked. "Being an expert in the field of sex yourself, and all."

Draco outright gasped with fury after hearing the insult. Then he felt his cheeks going very, very hot with embarrassment. "You… You…!"

"Yes, my oh-so-dear and virginal Draco-buns?" Harry twisted his mouth into a sweet smile.

"I'm going to kill you!"

"Now, now, Ickle Draco-pooh," Harry sounded irritable as hell. "Who would protect you then? Without me, you might well experience your first-ever time with, for example, Trelawney. Now that would be just _thrilling_, wouldn't it?"

"You audacious, dim-witted _wench_!"

"Virgin!" 

"How dare you! Low-class half-blooded _tramp_!"

"_Cherry!"_

Draco couldn't help it; he was too infuriated and embarrassed to remain calm and collected. He leapt up from his chair, and jumped on Harry, bitch-slapping him on the left cheek and trying to rip his hair out. 

"You… Fucking… Gryffindor _slut_!" he yelled. "Apologise me _at once_!"

Harry cried out in pain when his jaw was hit yet another time, but managed to grab the Slytherin's wrists in a death-grip after a few seconds of fighting and screaming. 

"God damn you Draco!" he shouted, "Control yourself, for Merlin's sake!"

After hearing Harry's commanding words, Draco immediately stopped acting like a rampant wild cat, and obediently calmed down. 

Harry was now totally confused. "Wow," he said, "Uh… That was… easy?"

"Shut up," Draco sounded dangerous.

They looked each other in the eye for several, quiet seconds. Draco was cursing in his mind, hoping that Harry would not notice what kind of authoritative power he had over the Veela. With a single forcible command, Harry was able to make him do almost anything; the idea of which brought the most disturbing images in Draco's head.

Harry, instead, was trying not to feel warm when feeling Draco's breathing on his face. Simultaneously, he was wondering if the Slytherin Prince was always this erratic and mad in his behaviour.

"Um… Malfoy? You're sitting in my lap," Harry finally croaked out.

Draco flinched, and threw himself backwards so fast that he fell down on the floor in his panic. "Not anymore," he said, sounding very edgy. "Not anymore!"

"You're weird, Malfoy," Harry glared, massaging his aching jaw. Luckily no bones were broken, and no joints were out of place. "And you're a lousy fighter, too," he grinned in conclusion.

"Fuck you," Draco muttered. 

"Alright, let's forget this whole mess," Harry said, standing up. "I'm sorry I called you names. Shall we go to our bedroom, then?"

Draco's palate went dry after hearing this statement. "W-what?"

"Our dormitory room, you stupid dick, are we going to take my stuff there or not?" Harry looked at the ceiling, trying to be patient and polite.

"Oh… right," Draco scrambled up from the floor, cheeks ablaze. "Of course."

Harry raised his brow. He did not even try to understand the blonde's behaving. He just levitated his trunk and followed Draco through the damp corridors into the dormitory room that was now going to be his new bedroom, too.

**

Draco lay in his bed, thinking. Potter was driving him crazy. And where was Nymphadora's answer to his letter? Draco was sure that his cousin was deliberately keeping him waiting, out of pure malice. But, then again, Tonks was not an evil person, not really, and Draco knew this. Perhaps she just didn't know what to say? Whatever the case was, Draco was still desperate to hear from her. After all, she was the only person who knew the secret about his true mate, and Draco really wanted to talk about his painstaking state of affairs with someone.

Draco's mind then turned to other issues. He had had a conversation with Snape earlier that day, after the classes. They had talked about Draco's situation, and Draco had told him about his transformations in detail. Snape had been worried about Draco's health, but Draco had dismissed all his worries; after all, they were Draco's classmates who should be afraid for their health, if anything from Theodore Nott's case was to be learned. Snape had promised to find out a way for Draco to control his transformations, so that they wouldn't become so abruptly and cause more chaos. 

But that wasn't the biggest worry in Draco's mind right now. No… The more interesting part of their discussion had been concerning Harry Potter, his secret mate. Snape had wondered the reason why Harry was completely immune to the Veela's attraction, and asked Draco if it really was true. Sighing mentally, Draco had admitted that this was the case. Then, Snape had started to pace back and forth in his study, thinking really hard. The Potions master had been sure that he had seen Harry slobber over Fleur Delacour two or three years back. This thought seemed to convince him that there was something really important that Dumbledore was hiding from them. Draco had agreed, and together with his favourite professor, the Veela had decided to find out what the secret factor was. 

Draco was genuinely curious. What was the reason for Harry's immunity towards him? It worried the young Slytherin somewhat, to know that even if he'd wanted to charm Harry and have the Gryffindor as his mate, he wouldn't have succeeded. Not that he had ever had any such wishes, though.

In any case, Snape had promised to visit the Ministry archives to find and search through Harry's file. They needed some details if they wanted to get forwards in their investigation. Maybe it was something in the hero boy's heritage that made him so special, yet again?

"Malfoy?"

Draco groaned tiredly, turned on his other side, and faced his new room-mate. "What now, Potter?"

"I'm bored."

Draco gaped at him. "…and?"

"Care to play cards with me?"

Draco gaped more. "…eh…_what_?"

"Play cards with me," Harry looked frustrated. "I've got a deck of Self-Shuffling Playing Cards in my trunk. Asshole? Casino? Black Maria?"

"…how about _no_?"

"Come on!" Harry whined. "It's not like any of your buddies down there in the common room want to spend their time with me… so I am stuck here with you."

"Ask Blaise," Draco offered. 

"Don't bother, Potter," Blaise answered from the bed that lay next to Draco's. "I'm reading a book."

"See?" Harry asked, poking Draco's bent knee with his index. "You must play with me."

Draco scowled. "Potter, read my lips: _fuck off_."

Harry crossed his arms and pouted. "_Fine_." 

Draco watched the Gryffindor stomping out of the room. He narrowed his eyes, killing the red pullover at the same time with its wearer. But oh! So very soon after the door has been closed after Harry, a rising panic started to stir in Draco's chest. His breathing became rapid and shallow, and he started to take frequent, nervous glances at Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, who were the other occupants of the room. Blaise seemed to be thankfully absorbed in his book, but Crabbe and Goyle…

Draco bolted up when the two sidekicks turned their heads in his direction, licking their lips. Then he ran out of the room, after his guardian angel. "POTTER!"

Harry was leaning against the wall just outside the room, and Draco ran straight into him. Harry managed to grab Draco from the waist before the Slytherin had the time to fall on his nose.

"Missed me?" Harry grinned, and let go of the blonde.

Draco looked mortified, but relieved. Harry's touch was still lingering on his skin, and he felt very hot. With great effort, he controlled himself and swallowed down the pull of his instincts. "Come back in the room," he mumbled. "I'll play the sodding cards with you. Black Maria."

"You didn't trust Blaise enough to let him take care of the situation if it went out of control?" Harry smirked.

"Not yet," Draco admitted. "He's been behaving really well, but I don't trust him that much, yet."

Harry pushed the door to the dorm room open, and they walked back in. "And do you trust me?"

Draco looked murderous, but still managed to hiss a silent 'yeah'. 

"Black Maria it is, then."

**

Draco yawned. "This is getting boring."

"This is only our fourth match, Malfoy, this can't get boring," Harry narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"I'm getting bored because you never win me," Draco drawled, and yawned again.

They were sitting on Harry's bed, cross-legged, the playing-cards spread out in front of them.

"Yeah, well you insisted upon playing the wizard version of the game… I haven't had the time to get used to it, yet," Harry complained.

"What's there to get used to?" Draco wondered. "It's not that much different from the Muggle version, from what I hear from Parkinson."

"The Black Maria talks and flirts with me!" Harry grimaced. "It's very disturbing!"

"Bad excuse," Draco yawned the third time. 

"Well, all right… I guess I just need some kind of spark to win this game," Harry explained, "you know, some kind of… a goal. What do I get if I win you?"

"Ah, so you want a bet?" Draco's lips turned into a smirk. "That's the way we Slytherins always play cards."

"Yeah, well, how about it?" Harry asked, biting his lip. 

"Hmm," Draco mused, "Why not… But why do you have to _get something if you win? It would be more interesting if you had to _do_ something… something really __disgusting… if you lose."_

"Disgusting like what?" Harry looked suspicious.

"Like… Something _really_ nasty," Draco's eyes gleamed. "Like, for instance, you must go and give a deep French kiss to Snape if… sorry, _when_ you lose."

"Eeew, no way in hell!" Harry looked sickened. "That's _too_ disgusting!"

"You're a homophobe?" Draco raised his brow. He suddenly realised he was slightly afraid of the answer.

"No," Harry said, indignantly, "I just don't fancy Snape too much."

Draco sighed with inner relief and smiled. "How about Trelawney, then?" 

"Keep it to the human beings, please!"

Draco laughed. "Goyle or Crabbe?"

"Would you honestly like to see me kissing them?"

Draco thought about it. "Er… no, thank you."

"That's what I thought."

"Then _who?"_

Harry chuckled. "Does it always have to be about _kissing someone?"_

"Of course it does," Draco huffed. "That's a tradition."

"Tradition?"

"Yeah, tradition," Draco leaned his back against the pillar of Harry's bed. "For example, last year, Parkinson had to kiss Flitwick, and Nott had to kiss Filch."

"So sick!" Harry declared. "You Slytherins are really twisted people!"

"Aren't we?" Draco beamed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay… fine. Kissing it is, then. But hey! You said to me that you'd never kissed anyone before Seamus attacked you in the library! You were pulling my leg, weren't you? There's no such tradition, is there?"

"Oh, yes, there is," Blaise put in, without averting his eyes from the book. "Draco just always wins the games."

Harry looked at the dark-haired Slytherin eyes wide. "He has never lost a game?"

"Quite true, Potter," Blaise drawled, and turned a page. "He has never lost a game."

"How about that bet then, Potter?" Draco smiled sweetly.

Harry couldn't help starting to think it was a very, very bad idea. "Umm…"

"Scared, Potter?" Draco wriggled his brows.

"You wish!" Harry frowned, and crossed his arms. "You're on."

"Okay," Draco looked triumphant. "The loser has to kiss the winner's fingers… each one of them… suck them in his mouth… _and_ look like as if he was really enjoying it." 

"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "I'm _not_ going to suck your fingers!"

Draco laughed. "Then you better not lose, either, hmm?"

"You revolt me, Malfoy… But… I… I agree. It could actually be nice to humiliate that cockiness out of you, for a short period of time." 

Draco grinned and ordered the deck of cards to shuffle. 

Blaise snorted, but Harry bravely decided to ignore him.

**

…TBC…


	9. Slytherin Flavour

A/N: Some wonderful person offered to beta this story for me but I accidentally removed their email address from my inbox and therefore could not send the story forwards. So, naturally, I am terribly ashamed of myself. *hides under the couch*

**9. Slytherin Flavour**

Draco Malfoy was positively glowing. He was sitting across from Potter, curiously examining the Gryffindor, who was biting his nails nervously. The Black Maria winked at Draco, sitting firmly between the blonde's thumb and forefinger, flanked by a very jealous-looking King of Spades. Draco grinned. Oh, yes… The game was going to end up just the way _he_ wanted it; there was no question about that. No… The real question was _how_ he wanted to end this particular match.

"Well, are you going to strike or not?" Harry asked, glaring at the beaming Veela boy.

"Give me a minute here, you fretful mossback," Draco glared. His eyes were examining Harry's full mouth in a quite shameless way.

Harry's lips were parted and slightly swollen, because the hero boy had been chewing them in excitement during the whole game. Would it not be just wonderful to have that soft mouth caressing his fingers? Oh, yes, it would be heavenly. But, Draco was a really realistic Veela. He knew that this kind of situation, where Harry was kneeling in front of him and sucking his aristocratic fingers might be a bit too much to him. It might lead to very embarrassing consequences indeed. It might render Draco defenceless, vulnerable and categorically very, very horny. Draco gave a disgusted shudder at the idea; he would not be growing _willingly_ hot for Potter.

"Malfoy! Come on...!" Harry whined. He poked Draco's knee impatiently, demanding attention.

"Yes, yes... just a second…"

Draco lowered his eyes from Harry's mouth to the hands. The Gryffindor had actually quite nice hands, if not counted the obvious fact that his nails were gnawed. Harry's hands were rather large, and Draco imagined them also warm and slightly coarse. The fingers were long, just like Draco's were, and undoubtedly very capable of doing unmentionable things to another person. The thought that those very same fingers had curled around the Golden Snitch on the Quidditch pitch oh-so-many times only increased Draco's frustrated excitement instead of diminishing it like he would have hoped. Draco groaned inwardly when he fought a losing battle with his raging hormones. No matter how much the 'old' Draco Malfoy tried to protest against the idea in his head, he knew that he would just _love_ to kiss the tips of those beautiful digits, suck them in his mouth one by one and…

"Malfoy, seriously, this is getting lame," Harry complained. 

Slowly, Draco raised his grey orbs to meet the bright, emerald gaze of Harry's eyes. Instatnly, he felt his animalistic instincts kick in with full force. Draco licked his lips and stared. 

Harry was so gorgeous. Harry was stunning. So very beautiful, so very powerful. So powerful, actually, that Draco could not tear his eyes off the black-haired boy even if he tried. 

And hell, he really tried. 

All in vain. 

Rampant thoughts, all of them quite un-Slytherin by their nature, started to swirl in the Veela's head. Harry was his mate. Harry was his love. Harry was his everything. Harry was _his_. He needed him. He wanted him. He… _No! _Draco ripped his eyes off Potter with the last drops of his self restraint, and groaned aloud. The whole bet now felt like it had been a bad, bad idea from the very beginning on. 

"What's wrong?" asked Blaise, raising a brow. He slammed his book shut, and stretched his arms. "The game is over soon?"

"I wouldn't know," Harry pouted, and glowered at Draco. "He won't play!"

"It's over, alright." Draco came back to his senses. He threw the two spades at Harry, smirking. "Start sucking."

Harry gave out an indignant whimper and a groan. 

Blaise started chuckling. "Didn't I warn you, Potter?" he grinned.

"Shut it, Zabini," Harry snarled. "This is not even remotely funny."

Draco, eyes misty with suppressed lust, grinned victoriously. However, he did not much appreciate the urgent heat which seemed to take control over his body. Desperately he hoped that it would fade away when Harry touched him, so that the situation would not jump out of hands.

"Alright," Harry spat, casting venomous daggers at Draco. "Give me your stupid hands, and let's get over with this."

Suddenly, Vincent Crabbe patted the poor Gryffindor's back, trying to look sorry. "Do you want me to do the job for you, Potter?" he asked. "I'm willing to help."

Before the shocked and colour-drained Draco could answer for himself, Harry cut in. "Uh, no need to do that, Crabbe. But thanks anyway."

"Are you sure?" the overweight boy looked utterly disappointed, and also a little bit menacing.

Harry imagined the sight where Vincent Crabbe was sucking Draco Malfoy's fingers, and his stomach lurched pretty badly at the idea. "Yeah, I'm sure. Er, _very_ sure." 

To make things look even more certain, Harry took Draco's pale, silk-soft hands in his own rough ones and raised them to his chest. 

Draco calmed down immediately when Harry touched him. But, the safe and tranquil feeling was not destined to last for long. Because, when Draco noticed how gently Harry was holding his hands, keeping them against his rapidly beating heart, the Veela's mouth went dry. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on breathing evenly. Or, well, breathing in general. 

"So, which hand first?" Draco absently heard Harry asking.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled. His eyes were now halfway open, and he was sure he slurred his words. "You decide."

Harry arched a questioning brow, but didn't pursue the matter further. "Okay."

Harry chose the left hand. Very slowly, as if teasing Draco, he brought the soft fingertips to his lips. Then flickered his tongue out, brushing it along the sensitive skin of the little finger. Then he slid his whole mouth around the digit, and sucked.

Draco was sure he would die.

Harry released the little finger and kissed the small tip of it before moving to the ring finger. He nibbled the head gently with his teeth before lowering his mouth again. Involuntarily, Draco leaned forwards to the touch and moaned.

"You like it?" asked Blaise, grinning. He was following the whole scene with no less enthusiasm than Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Potter's... Actually... Pretty good with his mouth..." Draco managed to say. To his luck, he at least sounded quite normal, and not the hormone-induced puddle of pink little blindworms he was feeling. 

Harry flashed a teasing little smile before he started to work on the middle finger. 

Draco suppressed another moan by biting his tongue.

Crabbe and Goyle were both enthralled. They were gaping at the dreamy blonde from their four-poster beds, leaning forwards as far as their stomachs allowed. Blaise, however, was not as hypnotized by the sight. Oh, no. He was positively lively and very much mirthful. 

"Potter's _practised_ this!" he wooted. "Potter knows how to give a blow job! Potter's sucked someone's cock before!"

Well. That had not been exactly the wisest thing to say, obviously, in front of one firmly-fixed closet-case and one deadly jealous Veela. 

Blaise did not know what hit him. All he knew was that he was suddenly pressed against the cold stone floor by four strong arms, and two lithe, panther-like bodies.

"Take that back, Zabini!" shouted Harry, his deep emerald eyes flaming. He had leapt to sit on Blaise's lower back, and was now pushing the boy's shoulders down against the ground with all his weight. "I _so_ haven't done _anything_ like that, you pervert!"

Draco hissed, his corner teeth beginning to grow alarmingly sharp. He was straddling the back of Blaise's knees, holding the boys ankles in a death-grip behind his luckily still non-winged back. "Neither of us is gay," he saw fit to inform.

"Okay, okay!" Blaise whimpered. "Gosh, I was just _joking_! Merlin!"

Draco, still feeling extremely riled up and jealous because of what Blaise had dared to suggest about his mate, squeezed his ankles harder. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin and growled. "It was a _bad_ joke, Blaise. And you know how I hate bad jokes."

"I'm awaiting an apology," Harry declared. He released Blaise's shoulders and leaned backwards, allowing the toppled Slytherin to look up and over his shoulder.

Blaise, indeed, turned his face at Potter. "M'not apologizing to _you_," he gave a laugh.

"Yes, you are," Draco simply decided.

"_What?" _Blaise sounded bewildered.

Harry turned at Draco, too, amazement clear in his eyes. 

Draco actually looked rather confused. His teeth diminished quickly and he scrambled up to his feet. Then he scowled. "Well since we're all sharing a dormitory room for the next four weeks, I thought it was a good idea to try and come along. Even with Potter."

The bemused stared did not die away; on the contrary. Wasn't it Draco who had had big issues about the new sleeping arrangements in the first place? Blaise and Harry were now accompanied by Vincent and Gregory in their bewilderment. 

"Well excuse me for being nice and all!" Draco shouted, spreading his arms. The strange looks simply annoyed the hell out of him. "It's been a fucking tiring day, and I'm fucking full of arguments! I have very delicate Veela nerves now, and I need at least relative peace! _Peace!_ Is that too much to ask for?"

"Malfoy, you're bloody losing it," Harry blatantly stated. 

"Oh, I am? Well, maybe if _you_ wouldn't have bloody lost my _medicines_ first, we wouldn't even be having this stupid conversation, and you wouldn't be lounging in my _bedroom_! Contrary to your stuck-up beliefs, hero boy, I don't fancy spending time with you and your scarred face anyhow special." 

"You're a jerk-off," Harry narrowed his green eyes. "So go jerk off. I don't want your company either."

Draco opened his mouth to say something equally rude back, but then he suddenly felt a ghost of a touch on his hair. He swirled around, only to collide his face with Vincent Crabbe's massive chest. He gasped with shock as the boy's arm slithered around his waist.

"Calm down, mate," Vincent said. "Here, let me hold you. You can relax against me."

"Vincent. KEEP YOUR _FREAKING_ HANDS OFF ME!" Draco yelled, at the top of his lungs, straight up at Vincent's face. 

The other boy just stared dumbly down at Draco, not moving an inch –not even wincing. 

Harry, apparently feeling a thunderstorm coming, stood up and released Blaise. Together, the two of them went quickly to pry Draco and Vincent apart. Harry started to work with the rigid clutch of Vincent's arm, and Blaise tried to shove his way in between the two. Wind was already starting to surge around the trapped Veela, its magical gusts tousling everyone's hair.

"Vincent, really, let him go!" Blaise tried to persuade his friend. "We don't want a dirty big hurricane to come and demolish our only bedroom, do we?"

Vincent glared.

"Draco may be irresistible to you right now, but he's still your friend," Blaise continued. "You don't want to harm your friend, do you?"

Harry didn't find Blaise's words anyway helpful, seeing as Vincent's arm was still tightly around the blonde boy. Shuddering with disgust, Harry then decided to try a new method. Inspired by what had happened between him and Draco just a while ago, he took one of Vincent's chubby fingers in his mouth and bit his teeth sharply down. 

"Ouch! Argh!" Vincent shrieked as Harry's canines sharply plunged in the flesh of his hand. The hand quickly retreated. "Potter, you son of a bitch!" 

Harry pulled Draco out of his enraged roommate's way and took out his wand. "Crabbe, I warn you. If you ever touch Draco again, I will curse you. Real bad. And don't think I won't."

Vincent swallowed, but looked infuriated still. 

Harry continued. "Besides, I think Malfoy's right. We should try to come along. It's not like we have to _like_ each other, but at least we could pretend that we're in civil terms, right? I don't want anyone to end up murdered in their sleep."

"You wouldn't murder anyone, Potter, you two-goody-shoes Gryffindor _girl_!" Vincent pouted, and crossed his arms.

"I did murder Voldemort," Harry reminded the boy. His eyes flickered with dark humour.

Here, Gregory saw it wise to interfere. He straightened up and kicked Vincent in the shin. "Calm down, Vince, you stupid oaf," he said. "Or do you want Potter to hex you into a toad or something?"

Vincent only grunted, but could not actually deny the fact that he was fighting on a losing side. Potter was, undeniably, a very powerful wizard, even though he was physically on the smaller side. So therefore, very reluctantly, Crabbe finally sauntered back to his own bed. 

"Malfoy," Harry turned around and pocketed his wand. "You okay?"

"Perfect," Draco snarled. He was actually feeling brazenly wild at the moment. The protective and angry Harry was something all too much sexy for the poor Veela. He wanted to bounce Harry right here and now. But, of course, the Gryffindor had no idea. 

"I think it's best that we go to bed already," Harry looked exhausted. "We're all tired. Besides, Theodore should be back here any minute now, and I don't want a scene." He looked pointedly at Draco.

Draco almost didn't get the meaning of that sharp stare since he was meticulously un-dressing Harry with his mind's eye. "Hmm... Okay..."

"Malfoy, I want you to understand me. I don't want you to try any kind of revenge towards Nott. Is that clear? Heaven only knows I'm tired of this shit."

Draco's grey eyes flashed with mercury fire. From hatred or passion or both, nobody knew.

Blaise yawned. "I'm going to have a shower. When Theo comes back, tell him that I borrowed his shampoo and conditioner." He rummaged through Theodore's trunk and stalked out of the room.

Harry watched him go, slight suspicion dwelling in his chest. He could not help but wonder about the brown-haired Slytherin's behaviour. There was just something too weird about it all. For one, Harry could not understand why Blaise so vehemently wanted to swallow down his own lust towards Draco. After all, acknowledging one's bisexual side was not a cause of shame anymore, seeing as half the boys in school already were rampant wild about Draco. Could it be possible that Blaise really acted by purely unselfish motives, and was worried about his best mate? Harry snorted. Draco Malfoy, having real friends? The idea was ludicrous.

Shaking his head, Harry decided it was best to go and get some actual sleep. Maybe in the morning his brain would be able to progress the whole Veela issue more rationally. He grabbed the hem of his pullover and flung the garment over his head. 

"Let's change into pajamas, then," he said to no-one in particular, yet meaning his words to catch Draco.

Without him knowing it, Draco cursed under his breath. Harry without a shirt! The Veela whimpered and hurried towards his wardrobe, turning his back at the Gryffindor. He did _not_ want to see Harry without clothes. He did _not! _He groaned again, this time very audibly.

"Malfoy, what the fuck is your problem now?" Harry asked, tiredly. His voice was almost desperate. "Can't you behave normally just for a little while, _please_?"

"Fuck you, Potter."

Harry walked behind the blonde Slytherin and eyed the Veela's tensed shoulders. "Okay, I understand." he sighed. "You must think it's awkward to change your clothes in front of Vincent and Gregory now? After what happened today and last night? Here, let me help you. I'll keep this bedspread..." 

"NO!" Draco grabbed the coverlet back from Harry's hands, tossed it back to his bed and turned angrily around. "I just don't want... I... Er... Uh." 

Shit. Draco was now standing face to face with the Gryffindor. And Harry was still without a shirt.

"You just don't want _what_?" Harry glowered, his eyes casting annoyed green sparks at Draco. "Look, I'm growing kind of short of patience here."

"You? YOU!" Draco spat. He was now too far gone with both lust and anger, and he couldn't take it anymore. "_You _are growing short of patience? Well _What. About. ME?"_

The room stirred with released innate magic again, and Harry felt a cold breeze of dungeon air waft around them. And, not many seconds later, Draco lunged himself at Harry like a wild tiger and grabbed the Gryffindor's raven locks.

"YOU THINK THAT I AM ENJOYING THIS SITUATION, HUH?" he roared. "I HATE THIS, YOU HEAR ME? _I HATE THIS_!" he shouted directly in Harry's ear.

Harry grimaced when his ears were attacked this way. He retaliated by grabbing Draco's white locks in turn. "DON'T YOU SHOUT AT ME, MALFOY! You have no right or reason to lose your cool! I have been a very good protector! I have done everything I possibly can to ensure your safety, when nothing would delight me more than to have you knocked up by some horrid monstrous being! Maybe I'll just let you alone with FILCH next time you're serving detention!"

"WHAT?" Draco raged, and punched Harry in the stomach. "That is SO disgusting! And if anyone here is going to serve DETENTION, it is YOU, you stupid wanker, for SPOILING MY LIFE!" 

"Well YOU could've been more DISCREET about using those fucking DRUGS of yours, Malfoy!" Harry hissed, and tried to kick Malfoy. "How was I supposed to know that you were not a drug addict but some FREAKING ANIMAL? HUH?"

"I AM NOT," Draco looked positively mad, "AN ANIMAL!"

"YES," Harry looked as mad as his rival, "YOU ARE!"

"AM NOT!" Draco shoved his hands around Harry's throat and squeezed hard. 

"YES," Harry coughed, and tried to haul Malfoy off him, "YOU ARE!"

Draco leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm going to kill you, Potter," he whispered threateningly, his lips nearly touching Harry's. Then he squeezed Harry's neck again, with new force.

Harry groaned in tired despair. He didn't have the energy for this. Not now. But he did not quite know what to do about it. Granted, he was slightly taller and stronger than the rabid Veela, but he really didn't want to hurt Draco. Gathering all his willpower and remaining energy, Harry did what his senses first told him to do. 

He brought his lips to Draco's and gave him a soft kiss. 

"Beware. If you get too close, I might start to lust over you, as well," he managed to cough.

Draco's hands lost their deadly grip immediately. His eyes flew open and he staggered back from the Gryffindor. "W-what?" he swallowed.

Harry, satisfied with the way he had handled the situation, clutched Draco's right hand and sucked two of the fingers half way in his mouth. Then he slid them out of his mouth and looked seriously in Draco's smoky-grey eyes. "You heard me."

As expected, Draco went rigid –and very, very silent.

Harry had no idea what he was doing to Draco. The only thought in the Gryffindor's mind was to make Draco feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the Veela directly in the eye. "See, you can't risk this. I don't know what the hell keeps me immune to your so-called charms at the moment, but if you keep harassing me like you just did, maybe the protection shield wears down. And then you're left all alone to deal with your Veela problem."

Draco just weakly nodded. 

"Good. Calm now?"

Draco stared at him, almost ready to cry with inner confusion. "Yeah."

"Alright," Harry wriggled up from the floor and stood up. "Change into your pajamas, Malfoy, and go brush your teeth."

**

That night, before falling asleep, Draco decided that he would have to stay the hell out of Potter's reach in the following twenty-and-some days. He needed to be as far away from the Gryffindor as possible, if he wanted to survive the following weeks intact.

Intact physically – and intact emotionally.

As the nocturnal minutes ticked onwards, he fell in a peaceful slumber, knowing that Harry's wards were there to protect him from the monsters of the night again.

.

.

.

…TBC…


	10. Autumn Rain

A/N: I apologize that it has been so long since I last updated. I'm in the worst phase with my thesis, and it's taking so much time that I don't find the time to write fanfiction as often as I once used to. Also, this is unbetaed. Sorry about possible mistakes.

-M.S.

**10. Autumn Rain**

Harry was tossing and turning in his bed, restless because of his dreams. He was not sleeping very deeply, but was not awake, either. It was just the kind of annoying sleep, which would leave you both badly refreshed and awfully tired in the morning. 

Harry's eyes were moving frantically under his lids. A little black fairy watched the sight curiously, not understanding that the boy was re-living a fight against the horrible Lord Voldemort in his nightmares, yet again. 

A little moan escaped the Gryffindor's chewed lips. The fairy scowled, and decided to wake up the restless hero.

Harry shot up in his bed when feeling vicious tickle in his ear. 

"What the...? Riddle!" he cried out, annoyed. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

The ink-coloured doxy smirked at him; Harry was suddenly struck with the idea that its owner had spent evening after evening teaching the little pest to smirk in the right, patented Malfoy way.

"Wanted to wake me up, huh?" Harry massaged his eyes, and reached for his glasses. "Why?"

The doxy hopped in the air, grabbed his hand and started to pull him out of the bed, his tiny black beetle wings flapping frantically in the air. 

"Huh?" Harry yawned. "What?"

Riddle impatiently tugged his fingers, looking rather silly with his four tiny hands curled around Harry's thumb.

"Alright, alright... I'm coming..."

Harry followed the creature sleepily, yanking his pajama bottoms upwards where they were in danger to fall off. He was feeling rather off-the-rocker and drowsy, until he was suddenly standing right next to Draco's bed. 

"Oh!" he blinked. "Uh, what?"

Riddle was looking impatient, and crossed its two pairs of arms. Then it crept closer to the curtains, and waited, a deep scowl on its impish face. 

"Oh, of course!" Harry shook his head, in order to wake up. "You can't get to him without me removing the wards."

The expression on the doxy's face could be defined as 'well, duh', completed with a roll of fire-coloured eyes against the black background.

"Uhh... wait a sec," Harry muttered, his voice still throaty after the night. He raised his hands on the curtains, mumbled a couple of 'finite incantatums', and pushed the drapes aside. The doxy immediately sneaked inside the four-poster, and curled onto Draco's peacefully rising and falling chest.

"You're welcome," Harry yawned, and glared at the black fairy. 

Riddle smirked again, and started to smooth Draco's chest with its tiny, furry hands from where the buttons of Draco's shirt were a little open.

Harry could not help himself growing a little uneasy. Clearing his throat, he decided to withdraw. However, when his eyes accidentally landed on the sleeping Veela's face, his feet decided not to carry him away just yet. 

Harry leaned weakly on the pillar of Draco's bed, and tilted his head aside. Yes... It could not possibly go unnoticed how tranquil, almost _kind_, Malfoy looked now that he was asleep. There were no creases of worry between his brows. His eyes were closed and not burning with hatred or anxiety. His mouth was not curled in a malicious sneer, but looked almost as if the Veela would have been slightly smiling.

Riddle let out a little snort, and Harry woke up from his stupor. In order to clear his thoughts, Harry shook his messy head frantically, so much so that the world started to spin in his eyes. Then he sauntered to close the curtains of Draco's bed once more.

When he grabbed the dark green hangings, he wondered again how he had gotten himself in this situation. It was quite a shame, actually, that he did not find it anymore so very disturbing. If truth be told, Harry's year had been utterly boring since Voldemort's downfall, and he had needed this kind of excitement in his life. And who else would have been better to aggravate and stimulate him but Draco Malfoy, the bane of his existence since 1991. 

Harry let out a quiet laugh. Really, the life wasn't so bad, after all. Besides, he could now experience what it would have been like, had he been sorted into Slytherin in the first place. Maybe he should even try to make some new friends? 

Harry looked down at the blonde boy in front of him, and sighed. He had to admit it... he sometimes wondered about Draco Malfoy. Harry had played several times with the thought that if Draco would have received another kind of upbringing, far away from Lucius Malfoy's ridiculous influence, he might have turned out a rather nice bloke in the end, instead of the pompous git he currently was. Yet... it was futile to think along those lines, because Malfoy was who he was, and wasn't about to change his ways anytime soon --especially not because of Harry. Harry let his gaze follow a lock of silvery hair, where it started from the top of Draco's head and curled so sweetly around his ear.

Out of the blue, a feeling of shame crept in Harry's heart. Somehow, it felt so very wrong to secretly watch this one single tranquil moment the boy had had in days --felt like stealing something important from him. But, Harry reminded himself, this was just Malfoy, right? And it really wouldn't matter if he managed to steal a good moment or two from this snobbish brat every now and then, right? It wasn't like Malfoy would have been too benevolent towards _him_, were their situations reversed. 

Harry groaned, and looked at the clock on Malfoy's bedside table. It was a beautiful clock, actually; there were three pretty little time-turners in its belly, and the digits on the clock's face moved every time their respective time-turner turned around. Now, the digits showed that it was five thirty-two in the morning, a.k.a. too fucking early.

Riddle let out a little giggle, and Harry frowned at it. One tiny hand was raised, and small fingers gestured Harry to come closer. Harry shook his head. "No way." 

The doxy looked very angry, and crossed its two pairs of arms. 

Harry narrowed his eyes at the black imp, and crossed his own arms in turn. "No!" he hissed. "I won't! It's not like he's in any kind of trouble and I want to get back to sleep. Heaven knows what kind of day we have ahead of us tomorrow. Well, actually, today."

But Riddle was stubborn. He gave Harry a menacing scowl, and tiptoed closer to Draco's face. There, with a small gesture of his foot, he pretended to kick Draco's jaw.

Harry gritted his teeth. "You wouldn't dare, you little fiend!"

Riddle grinned, the tiny sharp teeth shining. Despite its generous two inches of height, it was established that it could very well dare do anything.

"Oh, fine! Just don't, _don't_ wake him up, please, because I really don't want his whining to start earlier than necessary. What do you want me to do?" Harry asked, and carefully sat beside Draco. Then he leaned towards the doxy and looked straight into its burning eyes.

Riddle walked slowly towards Harry until he could touch the Hero Boy's face. Gently, he landed all four furry hands on Harry's soft lips. 

Harry smiled. "You like me, do you?"

Riddle smiled back at him, and then, quite unexpectedly, plunged its twenty sharp fingernails down on Harry's tender flesh.

A sharp pain flooded through Harry's lower lip, and he pulled his face away. "What the hell was that for?" he hissed. Then he brought his hand to his mouth and found that it was bleeding pretty badly, although the injury itself was not very large. 

"Riddle! That was a horrible thing to do! I will kill you!" Harry shouted in a whisper.

Riddle, however, looked unconcerned. He did not even grant a look at the irate Harry, but played with a droplet of something in his hands.

Harry soon realised that it was his own blood.

"Riddle, you're a dead man... er... doxy!" he grumbled, wiping some more blood away from his lip.

Riddle cocked its tiny head, and looked at Draco. Harry watched how the black fairy flew over the blonde's face and landed on his cheek.

"Don't wake him up!" Harry pleaded, quietly.

Riddle licked its black lips, a sharp tongue teasingly flickering over the snow-white, razor teeth. Then it knelt down and dropped the little red droplet of blood from his hands. Harry saw it slither in the Veela's half-open mouth.

Despite himself, Harry stared. How could he not stare, when the tip of Draco's pink tongue so suddenly came forward to taste the red liquid that tainted his pale lips. 

Harry found it very morbidly a turn-on.

All of a sudden, an arm sneaked around Harry's waist. 

"Wh--what?" Harry squeaked.

Draco pulled Harry closer, firmly keeping him in his clutch. Harry tried to wriggle out, feeling more than a little panicky, but could not find his way out of the trap. And, soon after he stopped fighting, he gasped with greater horror when he felt Draco's lips on his own. The aforementioned pink tongue flickered out to caress his lower lip, before the Veela sucked the injured flesh completely in his mouth.

It was like both heaven and hell to Harry. His eyes dilated so much that he was sure they would pop out of his head. This was not right. He was not gay. He felt repulsed, betrayed, horrified --and yet, his groin decided that he liked the situation oh-so-very-very-_very-_much. Harry resisted the urge to moan when Draco started to massage his bleeding cuts with a velvety tongue. 

Shivers went down Harry's spine, and he was trembling furiously. Should he kiss Malfoy back? Should he open his mouth just a little bit more, and deepen the wonderful kiss? Harry's head was spinning.

And then... it all stopped. Just like that.

Draco leaned back on his pillows, turned his head away from him, and continued sleeping. Or... had he ever even been awake? Awkwardly, Harry slipped out of the bed, and walked back to his own bed, swaying slightly. He could hear the doxy giggling at him, but could not bring himself to care anymore. He was... distracted.

Draco Malfoy had kissed him. 

Draco Malfoy had kissed him in his sleep. 

Draco Malfoy had kissed him in his sleep after Riddle had fed him his blood.

If that was not weird, then what was?

Harry was suddenly very tired again. Deciding that he did not even _want_ to understand, he nuzzled down in his bed's warmth and dove under his covers. With trembling hands, he touched his mouth and smoothed his bottom lip.

He found it completely un-injured.

**

Two hours later, Draco woke up with a funny feeling in his chest. Something was fluttering there, like a thousand captive butterflies. He could not decide why, but was happy about it all the same. After all, it had been a long time since he had last felt this content and in peace with himself. He opened his eyes and immediately they adjusted with the darkness of the dungeon. He crawled out of the bed, and glanced at the clock on his table. It said quarter to eight in the morning. 

And then, a feeling of worry surrounded him. Something was totally out of place. Something _important_.

Frowning, he looked around him. Everyone else was still asleep, if anything could be decided from the closed curtains. That was quite normal, he decided, if not just a little unusual. He walked towards his trunk and opened the lid, and searched for his toothbrush. 

And then, just like that, the reason for his uneasy feelings dawned on him: his _own_ curtains had been _open_, and the _wards_... they had been gone.

Draco's cheeks reddened with anger, and he marched straight to Harry's bed. Ripping the drapes forcefully aside, he plunged downwards and slapped the Gryffindor forcefully on the cheek. 

"You _bastard_!"

Harry's eyes snapped wide open. "Huh?"

Draco growled. "Was this one of your brilliant ideas, again, Potter? To find me a mate? Huh? _Huh_?"

Harry only stared back in confusion, massaging his aching cheek. 

"You _idiot!_I might've been_ RAPED!_" Draco grabbed Harry's collars and shook the Gryffindor up and down. "You stupid, stupid, _stupid_ brat! Don't you understand that if you continue acting like this, I have to secure my own safety by starting to sleep in the _same bed with you?_ And that is something we don't want, now do we?"

Harry stared at him, not understanding, his green eyes innocent and confused. Draco was immediately even more agitated.

"Say something, you twat! Did you, or did you not, just remove my wards in hopes of getting me raped, and consequently, in hopes of getting yourself easily out of this situation? Hmm?" 

"I did _not_!" Harry squeaked. "Let go of me!"

"Then why the _hell_ were my wards down?" Draco seethed, and leaned his face close to Harry's. His eyes stabbed Harry with ice daggers, and he felt a weird, sudden urge to bite down on Harry's lower lip. However, he restrained himself. 

"I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to put them back there," Harry peeped. His eyes were large and scared, and he was trying to look at anywhere but Draco. "I let Riddle in this morning, and, ah, I was... probably so drowsy that I forgot to put the wards back on."

"Damn," Draco breathed, and scowled down at Harry. "You just can't afford doing mistakes like that, Potter! What if Crabbe or Goyle would have woken up before either of us, and... ewww, I'm not even going there."

"I... I'm terribly sorry," was all Harry managed to say.

"As you should be," Draco finally let go of Harry's collars and leaned back. "Now, get up!"

Draco leapt up and stormed to his wardrobe. There, he dug out a set of white clothes. Swimmingly, he dove into the tight trousers and shirtwaist that were going to go under the black, formal school robes.

"I'm going to brush my teeth. Meanwhile, Potter, make yourself presentable." 

Next, Draco went to wake up Blaise Zabini. 

"Good morning, Blaise," he said as he pushed the other boy unceremoniously on the floor. "I want you to protect me when I go to the toilet, so get up!"

Groggily, Blaise stood up and massaged his butt that had smashed against the floor rocks. "Mmhhh... Fine... But why aren't you asking Potter to accompany you?" he rasped. "I was still asleep, you know."

"Because I'm angry with Potter!" Draco snapped. "Now get ready and don't ask stupid questions."

"Aye, aye... Whatever..." Blaise went to find his school robes.

**

The Slytherin table --just like the other tables-- was remarkably quiet that morning. Draco pretended not to acknowledge this, and helped himself a goblet of coffee. He noticed with amusement how Harry automatically handed him the carton of milk, and gratefully, he poured the white liquid into the steaming black. 

"Potter?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, distractedly playing with his fork.

"Why is everybody so quiet?" 

"Dunno," Harry shrugged.

Draco leaned closer and looked at the Gryffindor suspiciously. "Then why are _you_ so quiet?" 

"Huh?" Harry flinched.

"I asked you," Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, "why are you so distracted that you don't even hear me when I speak to you?"

"I... Uhhh... Sorry," the Gryffindor mumbled, his cheeks and hairline turning scarlet red. "It's just that, erm, I had a pretty, ah, weird morning. Didn't... sleep very well in the early hours."

"Oh," Draco looked utterly disappointed. "And here I thought there was something very serious that was tormenting your thoughts. Damnit."

Harry flushed even more, but Draco did not pay attention to it. Instead, he turned his eyes back to the coffee in front of him. Then he stirred it with a little spoon, and started to count the swirls the cream-brown drink made in the silvery goblet.

He almost jumped when he felt Harry's hand squeezing his shoulder.

"You know, Malfoy, now that you mentioned it... Everyone _is_ rather quiet," Harry grumbled. 

"Well, duh." 

"Um… You could try to stop that fancy glowing thing, you know," Harry continued. "I'm sure, if the entire Slytherin suddenly decided to molest you now, I would be overpowered in mere seconds."

"For your information, Potter, I can't help it," Draco huffed. He tried his best not to think about Harry's warm hand on his shoulder. "Um, besides, the pull feels stronger this morning than yesterday. Actually, my instincts have never been this alarmed before. It is a nice feeling, but it confuses me... and, obviously, it confuses my house mates, as well. I wonder what has happened during the night."

"Oh," Harry flushed, coughed, and shrunk back in his seat. Then he turned around and muttered something about bacon and eggs.

"Something wrong, Potter?" Draco asked, annoyed.

"Nthngmprtnt."

"What?" Draco grabbed Harry's arm and twisted it. Harry resolutely stared at his plate. 

"Nothing important."

"Listen, Potter," Draco heaved a sigh. "I know you don't like this situation any more than I do. But I really can't help the fact that my ancestors meddled with magical creatures. Therefore, I can't help the fact that I'm partly a Veela and that I..."

"This isn't about that, Malfoy, not this time," Harry's voice was harsh when he interrupted Draco's tirade. "Just... forget about it. Please. It'll pass."

"I sure hope it will," Draco narrowed his eyes.

A few moments passed, in continuing silence, until Draco lost his nerve once again. Trying to keep his voice even, he addressed his housemates, "Will you brainless morons stop staring at me? It's rather impolite."

Many of his friends had the grace to look embarrassed, especially Millicent and Theodore, but the others only gave him smiles and winks and continued staring. Daphne even fluttered her eyes in what she obviously thought was a seductive way.

Draco examined the wooden tabletop with interest, and mused what it would feel like to bang in forehead against it.

"Hey," Harry nudged him. "Just ignore them. Try to lead a normal life. Maybe they'll snap out of it."

"Specify the concept of 'normal life'," Draco looked tired. 

Harry looked at him a few moments. "You know what? I can't."

"I guess we're pretty much the same, then," Draco mused. "Neither of us really knows what normal life is like."

"Yeah, I guess."

They stared at each other in a sort-of-friendly silence, examining each other's eyes. It was the first time Draco noticed that Potter actually had a narrow, almost unrecognizable ring of vivid red around his green corona. The last gift from Lord Voldemort, perhaps? 

"The mail!" Blaise shouted, breaking their little isolated moment. "Draco, weren't you expecting a letter?"

Draco nodded at Blaise, and glanced at the ceiling expectantly. He grinned when he recognized his own eagle owl among the other winged beings. 

"Finally!" he beamed.

"You were expecting a letter?" Harry asked. "From who?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but from my cousin," he answered, in a rush of detaching the parchment from his owl's leg. Then he looked at Potter, and gestured at the silvery bird. "Give him some bacon, will you?" 

Harry lifted a slim slice of the brown and white meat between his fingers and shoved it towards the owl. "So... Is it from your... cousin?"

"Yes, it is," Draco mumbled, ripping open the seal.

"Nymphadora Tonks, perhaps?" Harry frowned, and watched the Malfoy eagle owl nearly nibbling his fingers off.

Draco recoiled and looked at Potter. "How do you know that she's my cousin?"

"Saw your family tree, once," Harry shrugged. "I mean the Black family tree."

"Where?" Draco demanded.

"Um... Here and there?" Harry grinned.

"You little shit," Draco grabbed a random dried fig and tossed it at Harry. "Tell me this instant!"

"Alright," Harry ducked the fruit and looked smug. "I happen to own your mother's maiden home, and it's there on my living room wall."

"WHAT?"

"I happen to own #12 Grimmauld Place in London, formerly known as the Black Manor, and the family tree is painted on my living room wall."

"_WHAT?_"

"Shut up, you're drawing attention," Harry admonished.

"I am drawing attention already as it is, so I fail to see your point," Draco pouted.

"Don't you have a letter to attend to?" Harry casually pointed at the half-open scroll of parchment.

Draco gave him a nasty look. "That's right. But I can read it later."

"As if! You almost ripped it into pieces when you opened it, so eager you were to read it," Harry mocked.

Draco seemed to be having a short inner battle before he came to a decision. "Fine. I'll leave you and my family tree alone for awhile. But, I'll have you know that were this letter not so damn important, I wouldn't let you off so easily. In fact...We'll talk about this matter later, after breakfast."

"Curiosity killed the cat." Harry tried to look superior, but yelped as Draco's eagle owl bit down at his finger painfully.

Draco laughed, and then started to read his letter.

_Darling Sweet Foy,_ the letter began.

Draco frowned. "I'll kill you, Dora," he muttered.

"What was that?" Harry asked, sucking his injured finger.

Draco was utterly distracted by this arousing sight, and hastily returned to read his cousin's beautiful script, ignoring the burn in his lower abdomen.

_Darling Sweet Foy,_

_You're such an idiot. I say this once, and only once: get your bloody fair head out of your bloody fair arse. You can't possibly help the fact that your mate is Harry Potter. Your genes chose him for you, knowing that he would the perfect match for you._

_And for Morgan's sake, don't act as if you wouldn't want him! I know you do. Hell, he's the fucking Boy Who Lived! Everybody wants him. (Don't show this letter to Harry, he'd be horrified of my usage of language). Anyway, you should be thanking your lucky stars that you have this privilege to approach him. But no! Instead you're grovelling in loss and self-pity. Are you mad? You should be flattered that you don't have to marry a mere Nobody._

_Marry? _Draco gagged, rather audibly. 

"What now?" Harry asked, leaning closer. "Bad news?"

"Uhh...What? No! No..." Draco stammered cheeks ablaze. "And don't spy on my letter!"

"I wasn't!"

"You were!"

"Wasn't!"

"Were!"

"Wasn't!"

Draco scowled. 

Harry scowled. 

And then they turned away from each other.

Draco continued to read.

_Yes, I said 'marry'. And please, don't gag; it doesn't become you at all, love. You know that I am a hopeless romantic, and I swear, if I don't see you and Harry bonded and engaged before this year's out, I will personally come to visit both of you, and reveal your secret to Harry. _

Draco shivered. "You wouldn't!" he grumbled.

But, then again, he knew that she would.

_And, I must tell you this: Harry Potter is a good, kind man. Even if it doesn't seem like it right now, I am sure that he will learn to love you in time. I mean, the real you. Just show him who you truly are. Show him that you can be a human being, aside from being a Malfoy and partly a Veela. Show him that he can trust you. Harry Potter never does things half-heartedly. If he decides to love you, he will never stop loving you. I only hope you realise this, and understand what a rare treasure you have in your hands._

A warm, tingling feeling filled Draco's chest, and he smiled. Would Harry really learn to love him? Then he cursed at himself, and pushed the feeling away. He didn't _want_ Harry to love him, he didn't! And his cousin wasn't really doing a very good job in helping him to fight these sappy feelings. That sneaky wench!

_Yes, yes, I know that you wanted me to help you to get out of this situation instead of encouraging it. But life's a bitch, ain't it? Muwahahaa, at least your cousin is. *smirk* Good luck with the Hero Boy, prettyface!_

_-Dora_

Draco remembered his original plan which included a forehead and a tabletop, and started to bang his skull broken.

**

Harry had just received an owl from Hermione where she had asked him to meet her and Ron in the library after classes. However, when he turned his steps towards the fourth floor, he was suddenly dragged into a completely different direction by Draco. 

"Hey! What are you doing?" he asked, annoyed.

"It's time to go out, Potter," the blonde informed. "Come on."

"Oh, please, not now!" Harry moaned. "I need to go and study some _real_ subjects at some point of this semester, you know. The first exams are coming, and it's our N.E.W.T. year, like Hermione keeps reminding me!"

"As if you were ever interested in studying, Potter," Draco huffed.

"I am!" Harry protested.

"Oh, yeah?" Draco smirked. "Then I say you have a rather weird way of showing interest in your studies, if anything can be decided from our last lesson."

"It was Double Potions, Malfoy," Harry reasoned. 

"And you slept through it," Draco pointed out.

"Well, Snape didn't even realise I was there!" Harry grinned.

"Yes, he did, and he cut altogether hundred-and-fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry gasped. "He didn't!"

"Yes, he did." 

"He didn't! And I don't want to go outside! I already told you, I need to go to the library."

"He did too; just turn around and take a look at your pitiful Gryffindor hourglass. And you can study outside."

"It's not the same than the library! I can't concentrate there," Harry scowled and turned to look at the Gryffindor hourglass that was now considerably emptier than before. "Shite!" 

Draco grinned, and pushed Harry out of the Great Hall door. "Told you."

"Alright, so he did. But anyway, I don't want to go outside. You know, I promised to meet Hermione and Ron in the library." 

"See if I care."

"Malfoy!"

"You can meet them later, you mongrel. But now, I need my daily sunbath," Draco looked irritated.

"Why not take your sunbath a little later?" Harry asked. "I really promised my friends."

"Since it's shining now, I don't see why we should wait until gets cloudy."

"You're a selfish little asshole," Harry moped, but followed Draco all the same. "And I don't really see the point in these sunbaths anyway. Nobody cares if you die, and you never even seem to get tanned."

"I do get tanned!" Draco looked insulted, and shoved Harry on the shoulder. "But not in the dirty Muggle way like _you_ do."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry shoved Draco back. "I didn't know there were many different ways to catch a tan."

"Mine isn't brown," Draco sounded haughty_. _"It's a lunar glow, and it makes my skin look even paler than usual."

Harry shook his head. Trust Malfoy to be so special, again. "How dandy," he drawled, maliciously. "I bet it makes you _shine_ like an _angel!_"

"Mock me all you like, Harry, but I'm still going to end up being the prettier one of us," Draco vaunted.

Harry raised his brows at this, but Draco didn't seem to think there was anything weird in his statement. Harry, on the other hand found it incredibly odd. Firstly, Malfoy had called him Harry. And secondly... Harry couldn't decide what it was, but the way how Malfoy had said that they'd 'end up being something together' disturbed him.

Ah, well. Perhaps it was just a momentary slip of tongue? Or, maybe, the Veela's brain had somewhat gotten soft because he hadn't gotten enough sun lately? 

Or maybe it was his _own _brain going soft --another consequence of the morning's episode with blood and saliva?

Harry wisely let the matter go. 

They settled down by the Quidditch pitch, on a blanket that Draco conjured up and spread beneath them. 

"Listen, Potter. I need to write a letter to my investors," he said, rolling over onto his stomach and digging out a piece of parchment and a quill from his backpack. "I was supposed to do that already yesterday. And I have no intention to let you know anything about my financial business, so..."

"...so?"

"Go catch a butterfly, or something."

"_What_?" Harry balled his fists. "First you insist that I come here with you, and now you send me away? Fuck you, Malfoy. I will study, just like I promised myself, and will stay right here where it is at least relatively comfortable on the blanket." He lay on his stomach, next to Draco, grabbed his Transfiguration book and opened it from where they had left. "You don't order me around, you great ponce."

"Fine!" Draco put some space between them, and grabbed his quill. "But don't peek!"

"I wouldn't!"

"You would."

"Wouldn't!"

"This is getting old."

"Then shut up and write that damned letter of yours!"

Harry fixed his attention to the Transfiguration text and started reading. However, in mere minutes, his thoughts strayed again to the unsettling happenings of the morning's small hours. 

What had happened? Had Malfoy really kissed him? And... had it really felt so very good? Harry cursed. He could still vividly remember Malfoy's lips on his own, the strong hands around his waistline, keeping him close so forcefully and yet so tenderly… Harry shivered with the memory. He _had_ really liked it. But... did Malfoy even remember? It seemed that he didn't. 

_I need to talk to Dumbledore... Or better yet, Hermione. Or... Maybe not._

Harry removed his glasses, lowered his head and rested his cheek against the pages of the Transfiguration book. The sun was shining brightly, warming his black robes with tender hands. Harry felt his eyes become heavier and heavier, and until he realised it, he was fast asleep.

**

Thirty minutes passed, and Draco gladly wrapped up the long and difficult letter he had written to his Gringott investor. Smiling brightly, he wrapped a red silken braid around the roll of parchment and whistled. Not long after, a shadow started to hover above him, and his eagle owl landed with a true Malfoy grace next to him. 

"Hello again," he smoothed the bird's feathers. "Take this to Elirach. It's important, so make sure you won't lose it on the way. I don't want the whole world finding out about my businesses."

The bird, already accustomed to Draco's new shining presence, gave out a low hoot, and dashed off.

Smiling still, Draco rolled around and looked at the blue sky. He felt so good now, so refreshed. The sun had done miracles to both his mind and outer appearance, and for the first time in three days, he felt that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Inhaling the sweet scent of the grass, he rolled around once more, and to his sudden surprise, came face to face with the Boy Who Lived. 

Draco tensed. He hadn't realised that there were no more than few inches space between them, and now between their faces.

"Potter!" he gasped.

Harry cracked his eyes halfway open and looked at the blonde curiously, still a little bit drowsy. Then he yawned and flashed a little smirk. "Mmm... Malfoy. You seem happy."

Draco's heart nearly stopped beating at the sight of the smiling Harry. So beautiful. How could something so beautiful possibly exist? And, more importantly, how could he have not noticed Harry's unique and startling grace already years before? Gingerly, Draco examined Harry's full lips and angular jaw, before returning his attention to the Gryffindor's eyes. "Yes. I'm quite happy at the moment," he admitted, in a half whisper.

"Why?" Harry asked. His voice was soft and content after the sleep.

"Why what?" Draco bit his lip. The urge to touch that smooth, black velvety hair that curled over his mate's forehead, covering the famous scar, was almost unbearable. 

"Why are you happy?" Harry simply repeated his question, and blinked slowly.

"I..." Draco found his mouth go _very _dry. "It... It's the sun, probably. The sun always makes me feel good." Then he averted his gaze from Harry and looked back into the blue depths of the sky.

Harry propped himself up on one elbow. "There's something else, isn't there?" he asked the blonde.

Draco gritted his teeth. "There is nothing."

"Aw, come on!" Harry whined. "Tell me! Did you get some really good news from your cousin, or what? Why can't you let me know?"

"Because you'd freak out," Draco quietly exhaled.

"I demand you," Harry poked Draco in the chest. "Tell me what Tonks said in the letter."

Ah, an outright command. 

Draco crossed his fingers and hoped for the best. "She said... that... I should try to... accept the fact that I'm a half Veela and that I can't really help who my mate is." 

Draco's heart was hammering._ There! That wasn't a lie, at least._

"I knew Tonks would manage to hammer some sense into you," Harry grinned. "What else?"

"She also said that... my mate... would surely fall in love with me for real, and not just because of these... powers."

Harry snorted. "Well that explains your good mood, certainly. It's such a positive view on this sordid matter, in fact, that even _you _can't have thought about it before. I'm sure _I_ would never have thought of it, because... Well. Who'd ever fall in love with _you?_"

A sharp pain, not entirely unlike a stab of a dagger, ripped through Draco's chest, plunging straight into his heart. A burning pain, not entirely like Muggle fire, spread behind his eyelids, making it almost impossible for him to fight tears. "I... You're right. I'm being silly."

Harry watched how the Veela suddenly lost his joyful mood. Every single trace of happiness washed away from his face, and he turned around. Even the sun decided to escape into the shelter of one lonely cloud that moment, and Harry felt cold shivers run through his body.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, I shouldn't have said that," Harry heard his own voice speaking.

"It's alright," Draco swallowed. "You are right. My mate would never fall in love with me."

Harry looked at his back with sad, frightened eyes. "I... I'm sorry, Malfoy. I shouldn't have been so un-supportive. I'm mean, I'm sure that when we find your mate, she --or he-- will really truly love you. The real you, I mean."

Draco did not reply.

"Malfoy?" Harry was getting worried. "Come on, Malfoy, talk to me. I'm sorry, okay?"

Draco swallowed his pain and slowly rose to his feet. "Let's get inside, Potter. I can feel a rain coming." 

"But... the sky's clear," Harry scowled.

"Is it?" Draco asked, quietly. 

"Yes, it..." Harry tilted his head and turned to look at the azure sky again.  

He found it dark, stormy grey. 

"M-Malfoy?"

The skies cracked open exactly at the same moment when the first, silent tear slid along one of Draco's long eyelashes and fell on his high, ivory cheekbone.

...TBC...


	11. Red Blooded Monsters

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Stine. Also, I want to thank you ALL for the wonderful and plentiful reviews I've gotten; I am quite amazed. I'm sorry this chapter took so long to update, but recently I haven't had the slightest interest to write anything at all. But, you know how it works... get enough emails that complain what a lazy wanker I am, and there I go again. Must write. Must... Must... sigh

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**11. Red Blooded Monsters**

The rain continued the whole afternoon. It drummed on the rooftops and hammered the gothic windows, making everything outside look dull and grey. Harry was afraid that soon it would be also thundering and hailing, seeing as Draco was still in a very foul mood, examining his nails disinterestedly with his sad, shiny eyes.

The both boys were sitting in the library with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Harry had really promised to see them today, and since Draco seemed to be obliging, meaning that he didn't talk anymore, the Gryffindor had steered their steps past Madam Pince at the corner table that was Hermione's favourite. And here they now were, trying to concentrate on studying.

Hermione had ushered Ron and Harry to read Potions, while she and Ginny started to talk something about Arithmancy. Nobody cared if Draco studied or not; in actual fact no-one dared to speak a word to him. Not even Harry dared to suggest that Draco should take out his quill and ink bottle and finish the Herbology essay due to the following day, although he was sure the blonde hadn't done it, yet. There was something about the Slytherin that made them all feel wary around him.

Harry's eyes snapped away from Draco's pale face when he received a note from Ron, under the table. They were sitting opposite to each other, separating the girls from Draco –just in case. That left Harry sitting between Draco and Ginny, and Ron sitting next to the bushy-haired Hermione. Harry tried to be careful with the piece of parchment Ron had slipped between his fingers; he didn't want Ginny or Draco to know what it said.

_What's wrong with Malfoy?_ Ron wrote.

Harry sighed, and glanced again at the brooding Slytherin. Shoulders slumped, head leaning against the cold window glass –Malfoy really was depressed. He had to be; otherwise he wouldn't be so openly showing his emotions.

_We had quite a rough verbal banter today. And believe it or not, I won it. That's why he's pouting. _

Harry answered Ron's question and slipped the note back to the red-head. He knew that this wasn't exactly the whole truth, but he didn't have the energy to elaborate right now.

Ron swiftly read the lines and frowned. Soon, Harry felt the familiar parchment in his hand again.

_He doesn't just pout, Harry, _Ron's messy handwriting said. _He looks like he's holding back tears. What did you say to him, to make him so damn miserable? I wish I would have been there, mate! I really wish._

Harry immediately looked up and into the eyes of the half-Veela. They really were gleaming, as if he was trying not to cry. Furrowing his black brows, Harry followed Draco's glossy gaze out of the window and found out that it really had started to thunder and hail.

_I think I insulted his Veela instincts or something. _Harry answered Ron._ I said nobody could ever love him, Veela or not, and he didn't take it so well. He conjured up those rain clouds right after. _

Harry waited a few slowly passing seconds until it was safe to slip the parchment back to Ron, without Ginny and Hermione noticing. Then he turned to look at Draco, once again. The Slytherin shifted cautiously in his seat and leaned his forehead tiredly against his hands. His gaze now nailed at the brown tabletop, he sighed and began to slowly massage his scalp. Silvery blond hair slithered like milk through his fingers, and Harry found himself staring.

Ron passed the note to him, again. _How in the bloody hell can he conjure up storm clouds?_

Harry smiled, despite himself. _He can't. But he can command the winds, somehow. Just this one stupid Veela trick. And, um, well... I heard it was raining in London today. Guess it isn't, any more_.

Harry sniggered as Ron read his explanation, the blue Weasley eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"Boys, what are you doing?" snapped Hermione, and ripped the note from Ron's hand before he could answer it. Quickly, she scanned it through. "Really, how mature," she huffed. "Now stop this idiocy and get back to your Potions books, or else."

Draco turned his head and looked quizzically at the mortified Harry. "She's quite the little tyrant, isn't she?" he quipped.

Harry and Ron both snorted with mirth, despite themselves.

"I am not a tyrant!" Hermione gasped, very much insulted. "I'm just trying to get these two blockheads through this school year. They're so lazy and disinterested in everything that I really need to whip some energy into them."

"Ah," Draco looked thoughtful. "Whipping? I never knew you liked that kind of games, Harry."

Harry and Ron both blushed deeply, and Ginny started to giggle.

"Malfoy, I do _not _like that kind of games," Harry cleared his throat. "Just so you know."

Draco merely raised him a brow, and then turned back into his former, miserable mood. Harry didn't even try to understand what was going on in the blonde's mind, and grabbed his Potions book like Hermione had instructed.

"Um, Ron, Harry?" Hermione tentatively asked. "Er... I would like to have a word with you two. Alone. If... If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, sure," Ron said, and stood up with frenzy.

Harry's movements were much more hesitant and slower, as he didn't really know what she meant.

"Let's go there," Hermione gestured towards the other end of the library hall. "Ginny, Malfoy, we'll be right back."

Harry made a move to step away from the table, but felt something restraining him. Looking down, he noticed it was Malfoy, his pale hand grasping the hems of his robes.

"Are you going to leave me alone?" he whispered, a flash of panic crossing his eyes.

"I won't be far away," Harry promised. "I can hear you if you call my name."

Draco nodded, and let his hand fall to his side. "Okay."

Harry smiled quickly and nervously down at the other boy, and hastened after Ron and Hermione.

* * *

Hermione sat down on a vacant windowsill and began to fumble something out of her heavy backpack.

"This," she finally said, smiling. "This is the list."

Harry was dumbfounded. "What list?"

"The list of those who want to get into Malfoy's pants, of course," Ron smirked.

Harry's eyes widened ever so slightly with horror. "So... You really made a list, then, huh?"

"Yeah," Hermione beamed. "Take a look at it."

Harry grabbed the piece of parchment, which turned out to be a long list of names. A _very _long list of names. Hermione had numbered each and every one of them, and Harry blanched when he saw the last number and name in the row: _198. Dumbledore. _

"This is... this is just plain disgusting," he gurgled out.

"Isn't it!" Ron laughed in happiness. "This is going to be so great!"

Harry scanned the list over again, and felt even more repulsed than before. All the names didn't even belong to human beings; there were also centaurs on the list, as well as the merpeople and Professor Trelawney.

"Er... What am I supposed to do with this list?" Harry asked.

"Why, you will try to arrange each and every one of them a private meeting with Malfoy," Hermione explained. "That way, we can help him to find his mate."

"I will not do anything of the sort," Harry tossed the parchment back to Hermione. "Whether you like it or not, I happen to feel a little sympathy towards the git, and I will not go through with this... this... this _plan _of yours. It is plain degrading to human dignity."

"But Malfoy's not human," Ron pointed out, ever so helpfully.

"Yes, he is," Harry protested. "I really think he is. Well, I didn't at first, but I've changed my mind."

"Do you _like_ him?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Er," Harry didn't know what to say. "I... I think he's not so bad."

"Harry, listen to us," Hermione crossed her arms. "You must go through this plan, whether you like it or not. You know, you're helping both him and yourself if you do it."

Rolling his eyes, Harry snatched the list from Hermione's fingers and looked at the first name in the row. "Colin Creevey?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled. "Quite harmless, right? He's not capable of violating anyone, not even Malfoy. He'll probably just offer the brat a rose and ask him out for a dinner."

Harry took a long, shuddering breath. "Alright, I see what I can do," he promised. "But I won't be going through this with any of the teachers, or magical creatures. You can't possibly understand how traumatizing this has been to him, already."

"Sounds like you have really started to care about the scumbag," Ron frowned.

"I care about myself, thank you," Harry put the parchment into his pocket. "If something awful happens to Malfoy, then it will happen to me, too."

"Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure you'll find his mate even before you reach Professor Flitwick's number," Hermione smiled.

Harry was sure his face had turned visibly green.

"Guys, I'm sorry, but I have to go now," Hermione continued, standing up. "I have some practical work to do in the potions lab. I'll see you two later, then."

"Yeah," Harry answered, faintly. "See you."

Hermione quickly excused herself and stormed out of the library. Harry and Ron were left standing by the window, both of them staring outside at the darkening weather.

"It's beautiful," Harry commented. "The rain."

Ron didn't say anything, only leaned against the wall and nodded.

They spent the next two minutes in a complete, companionable silence, until an angry voice from behind their backs cut the tranquil air.

_"Ginevra fucking Weasley, may I ask if you are after my ass or my fortune?" _The voice clearly belonged to Draco. _"Because I tell you, you're wasting your time. M__y ass already belongs to my mate, and even my fortune could not save your family from bankruptcy."_

Harry sighed. Here we go again...

* * *

"Hey, um, Malfoy?"

Draco raised his head and sneered at Ginny. Harry had just left the table with Weasley and the Mudblood, and he was left alone with the Weasel's little sister. The girl had somehow managed to slither in the opposite chair to his, and was now annoyingly gawking at him over the tabletop.

"What?" he asked, irritated. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Busy doing what?" she asked, and flashed a charming smile. "I can't see you're studying anything."

Draco felt repulsed. "Look. I know I'm as handsome as Narcissus himself, but I'd really appreciate if you kept your admiration on a more subdued level. Staring is impolite."

To Draco's dismay, Ginevra Weasley only tossed her hair airily back and giggled. "You're so hot when you're angry, did you know that?"

Draco stared. "Have you gone mad, woman?"

"I've been watching you, for quite a long time already," Ginny continued, her voice now low and secretive. "I've been following your interactions with Harry... Especially the fights. They... turn me on, quite heavily, really. You have quite the body there, Malfoy."

Despite himself, Draco felt his cheeks heat up. Luckily, Malfoy's did not visibly blush. He looked elsewhere, and hoped that he was just having a twisted nightmare. But, of course, he wasn't.

"You know," the girl continued, reaching out and trailing a soft finger along Draco's forearm. "We could make it work... We're both pure-blooded and beautiful..."

Draco leaped up from his chair and dusted his robes, looking horrified and pained. "Excuse me, Miss Weasley, but I'm leaving now."

"Oh, don't be like that," Ginny playfully pouted. "You know you want some."

"Listen. I am not joking. I wish you wouldn't try anything with me, because I don't want to hurt you. No matter how many times I have battled with your ugly big brother, I refuse hit a woman."

"Refuse to hit a woman, eh?" the red-head smirked, catching Draco's words. "Oh, so you're gay, is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"You twist my words," Draco's eye twitched.

"That won't make them any less true," Ginny smirked.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you, but I do know a couple of good hexes I'm ready to use if necessary."

"Aw, they won't be necessary," Ginny cooed. "I'd be really good for you. I promise. Come with me, and I'll show you."

"Er, no thanks," Draco sneered, and inched his way towards the library section where Harry and the others had just disappeared. "You're not my type."

"How can you say that?" Ginny launched herself after him, and attached herself to his forearm. "I think we should become better acquainted, so that you can get to know me."

"I don't want to know you; you're not my mate."

"How do you know that I'm not your mate?"

"Because I just _know,_ alright," Draco fumed, and rapidly walked forwards.

"Listen to me, Draco," Ginny followed him, still not letting go of the Veela's arm. "I know you don't like me because I'm Ron's little sister. But I'm not all that bad, really, just look at me. I'm rather pretty, if I may say so myself. And we would make such a good couple. Can't you see it? You're so handsome and rich..."

"Ginevra fucking Weasley, may I ask if you are after my ass or my fortune?" Draco was annoyed. "Because I tell you, you're wasting your time. My ass already belongs to my mate, and even _my_ fortune could not save your family from bankruptcy."

"That was quite a harsh thing to say, Malfoy," Harry's amused voice echoed from the other side of the bookshelf that was separating them.

"Thank goodness I found you," Draco all but hastened to the Gryffindor. Then he pointed his finger at Ginny, who was still hanging from his arm. "This woman is insufferable."

"Ginny!" Ron gaped. "Let _go_ of him!"

"I will _not!"_ Ginny only tightened her grip of Malfoy. "I love him! I will seduce him before this day is out, and I don't want to hear anything about it from you. Or maybe you're _jealous?"_

"Yes! NO! Ginny, let go of him _now!" _Ron took a couple of steps closer. "Or I'll make you!"

"I'd like to see you _try."_

Draco and Harry stood still, watching the strange exchange with fascination and disgust. Draco had the sinking feeling that the day would turn even worse than what it already was. Wasn't it enough for one day, to find out that his mate didn't think he was lovable? Obviously not, since he was now molested by two freckle-faced Weasels who were nearly ripping each other's heads off just for fighting over him. Draco briefly considered if he should slit his wrists here and now and end it all before he would have to suffer from any kind of _physical _damage the Weasley department might be capable of inflicting.

"Ginny, I swear, I'll tell mum if you don't let him go right now!" Ron continued his heated argument with Ginny. "You're too young to have relationships."

"I'm already sixteen!" Ginny protested. "And besides, parental advice coming from _you_ is a bit disturbing, seeing as you need constant tending from Hermione and Harry yourself, in order to survive even through this bloody school!"

"That's not fucking true!" Ron growled, and stepped right next to Draco and Ginny. "I've been taking care of _you_ ever since you were _born, _Ginny! I think I know a little bit more about this world than what you could ever imagine! Remember my adventures with Harry! I know a lot of good shit. Malfoy?"

Draco was very surprised to being addressed by Ron so unexpectedly. "Huh?"

"Leave my little sister alone."

"Fine by me!" Draco tried to disentangle himself from the girl. "I don't fucking want her!"

"No, I understand you are more interested in the _male _population," Ron smirked. "So... How about it?"

"Er, um, what?" Draco paled, when Ron slithered his arm around his waist. "Weasley, get your hands off me."

"Ginny may be a good little cocksucker, but I can outshine her any time," Ron wriggled his brows.

Both Draco and Harry's eyes widened at this horrible, lust-dripping comment.

"This is my worst nightmare coming true," Draco squeaked, and tried to lunge behind Harry. However, his left arm was still in Ginny's firm clutch, and Ron held him from the right one. He was trapped. "Harry!"

The Boy-Who-Lived finally seemed to wake up from his shock. "Ron, Ginny, this is enough!" he hissed. "Let go of him!"

"No," both the Weasleys chorused.

"He's not your type, anyways!" Harry went to pry Ginny's fingers apart. "You'll so regret this later, when you're out of the reach of his influence."

"That's not true," Ginny seethed, and slapped Harry angrily across the face. "I've had eyes on him for two years, already!"

"WHAT?" Ron shouted. "You little slut!"

Harry massaged his stinging cheek, and glared at them both. "I swear to you, if you don't stop this mass stupidity right _now_, I will hex you. No matter if you are my family or not."

"Oh yeah?" Ron charged. "Well if you make even one move towards your wand, you'll find out what my fist tastes like!"

No-one of the Gryffindors saw the flare of rage flash in Draco's silver eyes. Threatening a Veela's mate wasn't the wisest thing one could do, actually.

"Ginny, it would be better, if you weren't here for this," Harry said. "Things might get quite nasty."

"I'm not going anywhere," she raised her chin defiantly.

"I don't want to see you get hurt," Harry pleaded. "And I promise, I'll give you another chance with Malfoy later."

Ginny looked into Harry's eyes, and something inside her cracked. "Fine!" she spat, and marched out of the library.

"What did you do to her!" Ron raged, balling his fists. "Did you use Imperio on her, or what?"

"No, I didn't!" Harry yelled. "Maybe she was just clever enough to leave on her own! After all, she knows that when you're out of the picture, she has one competitor less!"

"What makes you so sure that you'll win this?" Ron laughed, a maniacal grin spreading across his face. "I'm twice as tall as you. Just give up, mate."

"You may be taller," Harry snarled. "But I'm twice as _clever_ as you."

Ron's arm swung, and Harry got a vile strike on his lower abdomen. Harry doubled over, and coughed. "Fuck you, Ron!"

Ron was laughing so hard that he did not see Harry plunge towards him. Harry's head collided with Ron's stomach, and the red-head flew on his back on the floor. Unfortunately, Harry fell right along with him.

A strangling-and-kicking -flavoured fist-fight ensued, during which both boys rolled on the floor and tried to hurt each other with any possible means. Draco stood silently on the side, watching his mate defending him from the freckle-faced monster. He smiled a sad smile, thinking about Harry and how self-sacrificing the other boy really was. Harry didn't love him, hell, he didn't even _like _him, and yet here he was, fighting his best friend because he, Draco Malfoy, was in danger.

Ron's newest blow hit Harry in the jaw, and a crashing sound indicated that something had been broken. The fine hair on Draco's neck stood up, and his Veela instincts surfaced like a furious tidal wave. No-one, absolutely _no-one _would hurt his mate. To hell with Dumbledore's advice to keep his powers in check; he would _not _watch how Ronald Weasley manhandled his life companion. The canvas of his robes started ripping from the back, where two black wings sprouted out of his shoulder blades.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" he shouted, with a voice that echoed through the whole library, bouncing from the walls back to him ten-folded. "Ronald Bilius Fucking Weasley, I suggest you get your hands off Harry and get the hell out of here!"

Draco grabbed Ron from the neck, prying him apart from Harry's whimpering form. Harry was holding his jaw and coughing up blood, which made the half-Veela growl angrily in his throat, and shake the horrified Ron in his grasp viciously. Ron's eyes were almost impossibly wide when felt the choking feeling in his throat, and looked up at the menacing creature in front of him. His voice was quivering with fright as he struggled against the Veela's tight grip.

"Don't hurt me!" he pleaded, his face twisting into a disgusted, scared frown. "Put me down!"

Draco flapped his magnificent wings a couple of times, and tilted his head. His radiant white hair seemed to be even more outstanding now, when the lightning bolts outside made it flash with ethereal sparkles, made it glow like the brightest of the Patronus spells. And in the furious eyes, the lake of quicksilver seemed to be swirling angrily along with the thunder. Draco smiled, and the eerie smirk revealed a row of sharp, tiny teeth that made Ron nearly wet his trousers with fear.

"Put you down?" the silky voice sent chills down Ron's spine. "I don't think so."

"Please, no!" the Gryffindor red-head wailed. "I'll do anything, just don't kill me!"

"Don't be silly, Weasley, I'm not allowed to kill," Draco's voice was icy. "At least, not while we're still at school. But, I have a good memory."

Draco emphasized his words by hauling Ron roughly against one of the library's shelves. Despite his tinier structure, he was surprisingly strong and capable of causing harm when being in his Veela form. Ron's head collided with a thud against the old books, and particles of grey dust spilled out from between their covers, dancing merrily around his reddened face, blending in with the prominent freckles.

"Y-you wouldn't dare try to kill me, Malfoy, you'd be locked up in Azkaban in no time, just like your father was!"

Draco pressed his nails maliciously against the tender flesh of Ron's throat. "In case you haven't heard, there is a wizarding law that says a Veela can escape a murder in one special occasion. Would you like me to try it out and see what happens?"

"N-n-no," gurgled Ron.

"Very well. Then I suggest you learn how to behave. And by the way... never touch Harry again. Do you understand? Do not touch him, under any circumstances, not even with a fingertip! Because if you do... Well. Let's just say that you don't want to find out."

The Gryffindor nodded vigorously. "Y-yeah. Okay. J-just let me go, please!"

Draco let his grip fall, and Ron stumbled down on the library floor, accidentally kicking Harry's leg in the process. He sprung to his feet, hoping that Malfoy hadn't noticed, and staggered hastily away from the black-winged monster, never glancing behind. Only when he reached the library doors, he turned to look over his shoulder one last time.

What he saw made his heart pound more rapidly. The creature that once used to be Malfoy was now kneeling down beside his best friend and spreading his enormous, night-black wings wide open. Ron watched in fascinated silence how the half-Veela brought his left extension gently down and covered Harry's shivering body from view.

Ron decided to flee.

* * *

Harry moaned, and carefully cracked his bleary eyes open. He was feeling horrible, his stomach and ribs aching, but most of all his jaw. Ron had punched him quite hard, and he could still taste the iron of blood on his tongue. Were his lips and nose still bleeding? Harry didn't know, but he sure as hell was choking in his own blood. He only wished that he hadn't lost any teeth; that would have been nasty.

He rolled on his aching side and concentrated on the angry voices that echoed in the library, their sources arguing just a couple of meters before him. Without his glasses, he couldn't see all that well, but he recognized the two young men as Draco and Ron, mainly from one's red hair and the other's dark, flapping wings. A cold feeling hit his stomach and he began to search for his glasses frantically from the floor; he needed to get up and help Draco out of Ron's grip.

He couldn't find them, and he silently cursed in his mind.

The next moment, he heard a loud thump and someone's foot collided accidentally with his knee. Harry gasped with pain and fright. Had that been Draco? Somehow he couldn't stand the idea that the blond boy would get himself hurt. Not anymore, not now that he had gotten a glimpse of Draco's true personality. He knew Draco hadn't always been the most pleasant of companions, but at least he now knew that Draco wasn't that bad of a person, either. He had become to notice that Draco Malfoy was not evil. No... He was actually a sensitive and insecure young man with a wild streak of cowardice and fanaticism that often forced him to defend himself with coldness and arrogance. In other words, Harry thought that Draco was quite messed up in the brain, but still carried something good in his heart, something that was only waiting to be discovered.

Salty tears were trying to force their way out of Harry's tear-ducts, and he hysterically wished that Draco was alright. He wished that he could _see _that Draco was alright. Where the hell were his glasses?

He recoiled when a sudden darkness enveloped him, making everything around him disappear. He blinked a couple of times in surprise, trying yet again to see. A swish of gentle wind brushed past him, making his hair wave so that the scar on his forehead was revealed from beneath his black tresses. What was happening?

Harry raised his hand carefully and reached out, tentatively touching the blackness. His fingers came in contact with something smooth and soft, something surprisingly warm and comforting. Sighing with relief and understanding, he turned his head to his left, and saw Draco looking down at him.

The Veela muttered a silent incantation, and Harry's eyes rapidly began to distinguish more and more details around him, allowing him to see the anxiety that was shining from Draco's large, grey eyes that were looking straight in his own.

"Harry, are you alright?" the half-Veela asked, his voice a mere whisper.

Harry gulped, tasting accidentally the blood, as Draco brought his face abnormally close to his, trailing a warm nose along Harry's cheek. What was the Slytherin doing? Inhaling his scent? But at least Draco seemed not to be hurt. Clearly, Draco had survived Ron's attempts of molesting him, and that was what really mattered at the moment.

"Harry, say something," Draco urged, his breath lingering on Harry's lips. Faintly, Harry realised that he smelled of summer; of mint and fresh leaves of birch tree.

"Harry?" the voice began to turn really alarmed now.

Harry was confused, mesmerized and... and in terrible pain.

"Mhh cnnt tlk," he grimaced, touching his jaw lightly.

"Then don't talk," the half-Veela above him whispered, with an apparent relief. "I will heal you. Just... just close your eyes and lay still. I will try to make the pain go away."

"Mkay."

"Close your eyes," Draco repeated, and after a little hesitation, Harry obeyed. "Now, this is going to feel a bit... strange."

"Mff. Mm dnnt grr," Harry opened his eyes again and glared.

Draco sighed, and leaned down. Tentatively, he brushed his lips against Harry's neck and chin. Nervously, he then examined Harry's eyes that had gone as wide as saucers. He was relieved that the Gryffindor didn't seem to protest much otherwise, and that there was no clear hatred visible in those emerald depths. Encouraged by this, he finally flickered out his tongue, and began to lick long, wet trails along Harry's jaw and neck, ending each and every one of them with a gentle kiss.

Harry closed his eyes and shuddered. Malfoy's touches felt wonderful, although the intimate way the Veela was administering them made him also feel a little nervous. A tickling sensation followed each and every stroke of his tongue, leaving completely unblemished and healed skin tissue behind. The sharp Veela teeth nibbled at his lower lip, however not breaking it but healing it; and Harry was again lost in the moment. And when Draco kissed his nose, licking away the blood and healing the bleeding with his talented lips, Harry found himself suddenly so aroused that he needed to cover his state with his hands, removing their original grip of the warm, dragon-like wings.

"Do you feel any better?" Draco asked, his voice a little husky.

"Yeah," Harry grinned, and blushed. "Thanks."

Draco smiled hesitantly back at him, and then transformed back to his human form with an anguished groan. The wings retreated back to his shoulder blades, and his teeth became normal again. When it was all over, he realised that he was still laying half on top of the Gryffindor, and briefly wondered if he should move away. After all, Harry had made it quite clear earlier that day that he wasn't interested in him. Why to keep up wasted hopes? Draco looked away from the green, soul-piercing eyes of his secret mate and made a move to stand up, his heart heavy and sad.

Harry, however, didn't want him to go. Not so quickly. "Wait," he whispered, grabbing Draco's hand with his own. "Wait."

Harry felt Draco's hand tremble in his own, and he squeezed it harder.

"Draco..."

_"What in the name of _Merlin_ is going on in here?"_

Both boys jumped up with fright and turned to face the surly library keeper, usually known as Madam Pince, or in Harry and Draco's mind, the Filthy Voyeur.

"None of your damn business," Draco snapped, irritated.

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy, so happy to see you again," Pince cooed. "May I help you with something?"

"Yes, well, you would make me _very _pleased if you just, say, disappeared?" he said, flashing his most charming smile. "Please?"

"Oh, but of course!" Pince giggled like a little girl, and waddled away. "Just call me if you need anything."

Draco watched the old lady go with disgust.

"That is _so _sick," Harry muttered, leaning his head absent-mindedly against Draco's shoulder, feeling suddenly very tired. "When is this mess going to clear up, I wonder?"

"I don't know," Draco sighed, his voice low and miserable. "I really don't know."

...TBC...


	12. Charms

A/N: Ginny Weasley's true name is **Ginevra****, NOT ****Virginia****. **You all can go and check this from JK Rowling's official homepage, if you won't believe my word. Virginia is just a fandom-created nickname.

A/NII: Also, those who have been curious about **Hermione, **and why she hadn't figured it all out yet: well maybe she _has._ You'll just have to wait and see...

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**12. Charms**

Harry woke up to the strange feeling of being crushed by someone. He cracked his eyes slowly open, realising that he actually could not see anything due to the fact that it was pitch dark inside his four-poster bed. Very carefully, he tried to turn around. Yes, someone was indeed sleeping in the same bed with him, squashing his left arm. Harry reached out a tentative hand, and it came in contact with something soft and silky.

"Mhhh... Don't mess up my hair..." A sleepy voice mumbled in Harry's ear.

"Malfoy?" Harry gasped.

A warm nose nuzzled against his neck. That particular sensation went straight down to the Gryffindor's groin, making Harry flush deep scarlet.

"What?" Draco asked, with a whiny voice that indicated he'd still been asleep, and didn't like the fact that Harry had awoken him.

Harry's throat was still hoarse after the sleep, but yet he managed to get some sharp edge to his question. "Malfoy, what the _hell_ are you doing in my bed?"

Harry certainly did not remember the blonde boy crawling next to him the previous night. No, that was something he surely would have remembered. And also declined him from doing, had he been aware of the Veela's intentions. If anything, Harry wanted to keep Draco safe, and recalling yesterday's events, he had started to suspect that the Veela's charms were starting to affect him, too. If Harry could not get his own fleeting feelings back in check, Draco would not be safe in his company any longer. Especially if the blonde kept pushing his hips against his groin the way he involuntarily seemed to be doing right now.

Harry screwed his eye shut, and tried to remember how in the name of Hades did he ended up in this situation. But nothing special had happened after the Weasley episode in the library.

After they had exited the library the previous afternoon, they had spent the rest of the daylight hours in the Slytherin common room, Draco doing his homework and Harry copying it. Blaise had been there with them, keeping the other Slytherins at a good distance from the beautiful Veela boy that had become the obsession of nearly everyone, and Harry had been glaring at Blaise for reasons unknown to everyone but Merlin.

Also Snape had emerged at one point to see how Draco was doing, and to glare at Harry's general direction. The Professor had shared a few mumbled words with Draco, and Draco had started to cast weird glances at Harry ever since. Harry decided he didn't even want to know what Snape had said to the blonde boy, but obviously it had been something about him. And if it was, it couldn't have been anything good.

A couple of hours after Snape's visit, Harry and Blaise had escorted Draco into the bathroom, where they had brushed their teeth and prepared for the upcoming night. Draco had changed into his silken pajama pants and a black, plain T-shirt, and Harry had pushed him inside his four-poster with a dull wish for a good-night. After that, he had cast the usual protective charms, as well as a couple of extras just to be sure, and retreated to his own, inviting bed.

No. Draco had not crawled into the same bed with him last night. Harry was more than sure of that. Harry had no recollection as to why or how the blonde had ended up in his arms. The Veela must have done it while Harry was already fallen asleep.

"Malfoy," Harry started again. "I asked you a question."

"Did you really?" Draco answered with his laziest drawl. "Well that's nothing new. If you keep doing just that, you might miraculously surprise us all and even pass the NEWTs."

Harry inhaled deeply, not wanting to get into a row so early in the morning. He succeeded scarily well, when the subtle scent of apples from Malfoy's fine hair filled his nostrils and made him want to bury his nose into those silvery locks. Harry restrained himself.

"Malfoy, you know it isn't exactly normal to wake up with your sworn enemy cuddling against your neck," Harry patiently tried to get some answers out of the Veela. "Therefore, I would be ever grateful if you would explain."

"I got scared," Draco whispered, his feathery breath tickling Harry's sensitive skin.

Harry shivered. "Malfoy, you would have been perfectly safe in your own bed. Only Hermione can break my charms, and even she can't do it but occasionally."

"Nightmares," Draco muttered, and moved closer to Harry.

Harry coughed, trying to move away from the snuggling Veela. "Yea, well, nightmares can't get you killed, or raped. They're just dreams."

"But Harry," Draco wailed. "I dreamed about Longbottom and Lovegood. They were trying to do inexplicably horrible things to me and my virtue."

Harry wanted to scream. "So what? It was still only a dream."

"But Lovegood was wearing leather, and Longbottom did some nasty gestures with his mouth and a thick banana."

"Eww!" Harry stuck his tongue out, although it was too dark for Draco to see it. "Don't be disgusting."

Draco yawned deeply and stretched out his limbs. "What time is it?"

Harry rolled his eyes in the darkness and pushed the curtains a little aside, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. He was surprised to notice that he didn't need his glasses anymore. Malfoy's spell from the previous afternoon was obviously still working. Besides, he still did not know what had happened with his spectacles; they had completely disappeared in the library.

"It's half past six."

"So it's too early to get up. Breakfast won't start until half past seven." Draco rolled on his side and wrapped his arms around Harry again, nestling his head in the crook between the Gryffindor's shoulder and chest. "Nighty night."

Harry felt hot under the collar, especially now that he realised Malfoy had discarded his shirt at some point of the night. "Malfoy, if you don't mind..." Harry spoke very slowly. "Why don't you go back to your own bed and sleep there?"

"Too tired to make the effort," the Slytherin grunted. Then he abruptly raised his head and looked down at Harry worriedly, examining the black-haired man's face in the wan light that seeped through the crack in the curtains. "But, of course, I will go if you don't want me here. Do you order me to go away?"

Harry, despite trying to convince himself otherwise, actually enjoyed the warmth of the other boy's body next to him. He focused his green eyes on the scared grey orbs of the Veela boy, and managed to smile a little. Maybe Malfoy was not in his full senses right now, in his sleepy daze, but Harry kind of liked this cuddly Malfoy better than the irritable, angry and whiny one. Besides, Harry had the odd feeling that if he now sent the blonde away, he would have to bear the consequences later that day. Malfoy was bent on being panicky and paranoid even as it was, and if Harry would give the Veela reason to believe that even _he_ wasn't to be trusted...

The strange word called 'subterfuge' suddenly flashed in his mind's eye, with a ridiculously big 'S', but Harry decided to ignore it.

"Well, I guess it's all right," Harry heard himself saying. "Anything's fine, as long as you're not acting like a cat on a hot tin roof."

"I do _not_ act like that," Draco protested. "Given the circumstances, I'm acting very calmly and reasonably."

Harry couldn't hold back a snort. "Malfoy, you are the worst drama queen I have ever known."

Draco, who was still sitting on the bed and glaring down at Harry, suddenly leapt on top of the Gryffindor and pinned him down. "Take that back or I'll tickle you!"

Harry laughed. "See what I mean? You want to _tickle_ me! How evil is that? Only a week before, if you would have been in the position to hold me down like this, you would have tried to feed me my own wand!"

"Well that can be arranged!" Draco fumed.

Harry only laughed heartily. "Stop being funny and go back to sleep, Princess Aurora. And just so you know, I don't mind if you sleep a little longer than the usual one hundred years. You're surprisingly sophisticated company when you're in the Dreamland."

Draco muttered some chosen obscenities under his breath, but obeyed Harry like a good Veela should obey his mate. He went back to sleep, hogging Harry's pillow and eventually curling around it, inhaling Harry's scent from the cushion cover.

Harry watched Draco for a few minutes in silent fascination. The boy looked much the same than the morning before; peaceful and innocent and pure. However, the black bags under his eyes were now more prominent than ever, and Harry really felt sorry for the git. He suspected Draco had been sleeping worse than what he'd actually let on.

Tentatively, Harry wrapped his arm around Draco's small body. "Don't hex me in the morning then. After all, this wasn't my idea," he spoke softly in the Veela's ear. "You can't accuse me of molesting you, when you voluntarily climb into my bed."

He got no response, and decided that he might try to get some sleep, as well.

* * *

When Harry woke up the next time, he noticed that Vincent and Gregory were already bustling about, trying to get dressed. Blaise was trying to put off his alarm, swatting it wildly with a haphazard hand, and Theodore was already ready to leave. Harry rolled out of the bed, leaving the still sleepy Draco behind.

"Hey guys," he tentatively greeted. "Good morning."

"Morning," they all chorused, not looking at Harry, but not sounding hostile, either.

"So... What's our first class?" Harry ventured.

"You and Draco have Wizard Fashion Designing with me and Theodore," Blaise grinned, and rubbed his sleepy eyes. "It's a really interesting class, but I doubt you'll manage through it without embarrassing yourself. You have no fashion sense whatsoever, Potter."

"I'll have you know, Zabini, I have more fashion sense than all you Slytherins put together!" Harry fumed, pulling on a pair of trousers.

A gibing laughter echoed from the depths of his four-poster.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Harry yelled, annoyed.

Four pairs of eyes turned immediately at Harry.

"Did you sleep with him?" Blaise asked. His eyes were wide with disbelief and anger. "You bastard!"

"It's not what it looks like," Harry huffed. "I didn't touch him, if that's what you mean. I'm not like you people."

Theodore glared. He knew he'd blown up his own chances with Draco, certainly, but that didn't make him any less jealous of Harry and his position as Draco's keeper. "Then what the devil is he doing in your bed?"

"Sleeping?" Harry suggested, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

"Oh, as if we would believe _that!"_ Gregory howled.

"Then look for yourselves! He's still in one piece, and still as virginal as ever. If we would have had sex last night, I highly doubt he would be glowing so outrageously anymore. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed in peace."

Harry moved to gather his robes from the nearby chair. He watched as Vincent and Blaise crept closer to his bed in order to check out Draco. The two Slytherins leaned over the bed and stared at Draco wistfully, mesmerized, nearly salivating over the sheets. Harry shook his head in annoyance, and pushed a comb through his rebellious hair.

"You done watching him?" Harry surprised himself with a little burst of jealousy and protectiveness. "He's not an exhibit, you know."

"We know," Blaise furrowed his brows and forced himself and Vincent away from the bed. "But you should really wake him up. He's gonna be royally pissed if he has to hurry."

"Oh, don't I know that," Harry sighed. He looked pained as he straightened his tie; soon the day's calm would be broken, again, when the paranoid Malfoy heir would be awoken. However, Harry forced his legs to move and rapidly marched around the bed to Draco's side, pulled the curtains aside and shook the half-Veela from the shoulder. "Wake up, sleepy-head. School starts in thirty minutes."

"Mfff. Not going."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Malfoy!" Harry pulled the covers off Draco, making the blonde boy wince with sudden cold. Then the Gryffindor hauled the drowsy boy out of the bed like a rag doll, lifting him in a standing position, supporting him from the armpits. "I'm not putting up with your mood swings today. So get your whiny arse moving and put some clothes on!"

Despite his harsh words, Harry very much liked to linger his gaze on the shirtless form of Draco Malfoy this morning, and did not even bother to hide it. Something had changed. Had Draco's powers truly started to affect him, at last? The memory of himself sleeping right next to this beautiful creature conquered his thoughts, and he could feel something stir within him. Reluctantly, he let go of the dozy Veela, leaned against the pillar of his bed and concentrated on the show.

"I know I must be dazzling in the mornings, but really!" Draco sniffed his nose to the spectators, as he went to crash through his wardrobe.

"You better put your shirt on," Theodore carefully suggested. "You know, er, yeah."

"I'm bloody working on it," Draco crankily snapped. "I just can't decide which one I should wear."

"Try that deep grey one," Blaise suggested. "It's really hot."

Draco glared at him. "Do you think I want to wear anything hot when I'm already the shag-target of hundreds of lust-crazed ugly teenager witches and wizards?"

Blaise just shrugged and grinned.

"Blaise's right, you know," Harry smirked. "That shirt really _is_ rather hot. Now put it on, you bloody ponce, and hurry. Nobody will see it from under your robes anyway, you should be quite safe."

"You think my grey shirt is hot, Potter?" Draco raised a brow.

"Maybe it is, maybe not. Who cares? As I said, nobody will see it, anyway. Just hurry!"

Draco quickly grabbed the said grey shirt, flung it on and buttoned it up. "_You_ will see it," he grinned, and proceeded to put his robes on.

Harry had the grace to blush. "Malfoy, honestly! Behave yourself. You're hardly going to help your own tricky situation if you throw suggestions like that around."

"I do not just 'throw them around', Harry," Draco murmured, but so silently that nobody quite caught his words.

"Alright, I think it's breakfast time," Theodore cleared his throat, and opened the door. "Vince, Greg, coming?"

Harry watched the three Slytherins drag themselves out of the room. Then he turned on his heel and his eyes unexpectedly landed on Draco's trunk. A mad idea came rushing to him, as he remembered the little doxy that dwelled in this large, wooden box. With quick steps, Harry went to the trunk and opened the heavy, beautifully decorated lid. He located the black fairy with ease, and swiftly picked it up from one of the darkest corners.

"Well, well, well. Trick or treat, Ickle Riddlekins?"

* * *

The little doxy named Riddle had been very soundly sleeping in Draco Malfoy's expensive trunk when a sudden, unexpected light disturbed his peace. Very much annoyed, the creature opened his eyes to see the reason for this sudden disturbance --and his eyes flew wide open, when he realised that he was trapped in the corner by a very familiar-looking, dark haired young man. The said young man picked Riddle up and out of the trunk, a crazy smirk hovering on his face. Riddle panicked, and let out a strangled whimper. He tried to open his wings and fly away, but miserably failed tin his attempts to escape.

The person who was holding him only laughed.

"You're not going anywhere, you sneaky little imp! No... I think you're coming right with me to the toilet."

"Stop harassing my doxy, Potter, it has done nothing to you," Draco complained.

Harry smiled evilly at the blonde. "I'm not harassing it... I'm just teaching it a lesson. It has been a bad, bad little doxy."

With these words, Harry exited the room, laughing like a cracked maniac. Draco and Blaise exchanged a quick, anxious look and hurried after him, worrying for the fate of the little black creature.

"Potter!" Draco yelled. "Stop right there and give Riddle back to me!"

"Not until I've given it a cold shower," Harry quipped back, continuing his way towards the Ugly Snape portrait, the password of which he now remembered.

"It hasn't done anything to you!" Draco shouted. "Let it go!"

"Stay out of this, Malfoy," Harry's voice was commanding. "This is between Riddle and me. Whahahaha!"

"But it's just a baby, Harry," Draco whined, stopping in his tracks. "God, I don't know what is happening here. Blaise, you go and make sure Potter won't kill it."

Blaise raised his brows. "Uh, Draco... Why did you stop? Why don't you come along? You should hardly be left alone in the middle of the main aisle."

"Believe me, Blaise, when I say that I will kill you in a very slow and torturous way if you _just don't go and save Riddle from that raving madman!"_

Blaise believed, and hurried off.

Draco buried his face in his hands and leaned against the wall. He could not go after Harry; his mate had forbidden that quite clearly. _Stay out of this, Malfoy..._

"Damn you to hell and back, Potter. Why, oh why it is _you_ that I must love?"

* * *

"Muwhahahahhahaha! You irritable excuse of a fairy, this will teach you to mess with other people's heads!"

Harry hovered above the sink with a menacing poise, opened the water tap and pushed the little struggling doxy under the ice-cold waterfall.

"This is for making fun of me, and making fun of Draco's severe situation! I don't know what you had in your mind when you tricked us into kissing, but I will damn well make sure you won't do that kind of joke on us again! What if Draco would've woken up and realised what he was doing? He would've freaked out, for fuck's sake, and he's already crazy enough! And I would have been expelled!"

Riddle looked like a cat thrown into a lake, the black hair of its fur going thoroughly wet and flat. Its teeth rattled together with the cold, and it made a tiny, suffering sound in its throat.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?" Harry roared. "Never do that kind of tricks again!"

"Potter, what the _hell?"_

Blaise Zabini rushed into the room, snatching Harry's hand away from under the cold water, rescuing the little black fairy. He pried Harry's fingers apart and tugged the shuddering creature into his chest pocket, with a menacing glare at the Gryffindor.

"Just what the devil do you think you're doing?" the Slytherin hissed. "Be glad if Draco won't report this to Snape! Attacking and torturing innocent little helpless creatures such as doxies! You must be out of your mind, Potter!"

Harry looked annoyed. "Don't exaggerate things so flamboyantly, Zabini. I wasn't torturing it, I was just teaching Riddle here a lesson."

"Well excuse me, Scarhead, but Draco Malfoy is the only one to give this doxy any lessons," Blaise barked. "After all, it is his doxy, and not yours!"

Harry suddenly seemed to perk up. "Where is Draco, by the way?"

"Well, I left him in the hallway," Blaise shrugged.

"What, did you leave him all alone?" Harry nearly screamed at Blaise's face.

"He insisted upon it, wasn't my fault!" Blaise screamed back.

"Insisted my ass, he doesn't fucking know what's best for him! Why the hell did you listen to him?"

"Because he threatened to _hex _me if I didn't go, you fuckwit!"

"Shit," Harry panted. "Let's go. We must find him."

"Aye," Blaise agreed, and they both dashed out of the toilet.

They ran the long corridors in a hurry, hoping against hope that nothing had happened to their friend. Well, Blaise's friend. And Harry's... acquaintance with some very weird benefits.

"Where is he?" Blaise groaned, when they reached the spot where he and Draco had split. "I left him right here!"

"Well he isn't here anymore." Harry breathed heavily after all the running. "Where do you suggest we start looking for him?"

"I..." Blaise started. But before he could finish his thought, he was interrupted by a blast of icy cold air that exploded into his face from the direction of the girl's lavatory. "The girls' room! Come! Quick!"

Blaise grabbed Harry's forearm, and they both ran as fast as they could. Harry kicked the door to the lavatory open, and it slammed noisily against the wall tiles. Blaise plunged in, and nearly slipped on the floor tiles when trying to take the turn towards the cubicles too fast.

"Draco! Where are you?" he shouted, taking support from the wooden wall of the first cubicle.

"Mmmffff!" a muffled sound drifted to Harry and Blaise's ears from the box furthest from the entrance. "Mff rrr!"

"Draco!" Harry yelled and, together with Blaise, he went to pry the locked door of the booth open.

As they were working, they noticed that the air around them was as chilly as it was usually in the mid winter, and harsh blows of wind were tearing down the towels from the racks and making the toilet paper rolls fly across the room. This meant that Draco was very, very pissed off, and also very much in trouble.

"_Alohomora_!" Blaise cast the spell on the lock. _"Alohomora!"_

"It won't work," Harry muttered in rage. "Wait, I've got an idea!"

Blaise watched in fascination and worry how Harry conjured up a huge axe. The weapon was actually more heavy-looking than its conjurer; a fact which made Blaise decide that he'd rather stay away from Potter's way when he intended to use it.

"Potter, are you sure...?"

"Yes, I am, Zabini," Harry told the Slytherin with a cold voice, and lifted the weapon over his head. "The Muggle ways are sometimes the best."

The first strike was directed at the door's hinges. The uppermost one broke in two halves immediately, the metallic pieces clinking against the stony floor as they fell. Harry grimaced with the effort of swaying the heavy hatchet, but lifted it once again in the air. He targeted his next blow at the second hinge, which was as easily broken as the first one, and the door wailed.

"Draco, hang on in there," Blaise tried to support his friend. "Potter's coming through!"

The last blow of the axe didn't quite hit the final hinge, but instead it injured the wooden frame next to it, miraculously causing a chain reaction of some sorts, making the whole door splinter. But despite the small victory, Harry and Blaise could not cheer: the sight that greeted them was not exactly the most beautiful one of them all.

Luna Lovegood, with her robes discarded and replaced with leather underwear, was kneeling between Draco's thighs. She was obviously working on something Harry did not even want to think about.

"Raistlin Majere kill us all," Blaise cursed.

Draco's mouth was tied with a Muggle-style red bandana, and he seemed to be under some sort of weak Imperius spell. He was crying, and didn't even bother to hide it from Harry and Blaise. Luna, instead, didn't even seem to have noticed the newcomers; she was obviously too entranced by Draco's charms.

Blaise leapt forwards and grabbed the loony girl from the hair, hauling her away from his friend. Only now Luna shrieked with surprise and pain, and started to struggle against Blaise's harsh grip. Harry nodded at Blaise, and the Slytherin boy nodded back. With a wordless agreement, they decided that Harry would take care of the hysterical Draco while Blaise would see to Luna's proper punishment.

Harry untied the bandana, and lifted the curse off the shaking Veela. It didn't take two seconds from Draco to throw himself at Harry, sobbing miserably and heart-wrenchingly into his neck.

"I-- I _told_ you!" Draco sniffled. "I told you I had nightmares about that horrid freak of a girl!"

"Hush, now." Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shivering body. "It's all right now. Everything's all right. I won't let it happen again."

"You always say that, and yet it always happens again!" Draco wailed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harry found himself sobbing, too. "I will try better from now on. I won't leave you alone, anymore. Not for one moment, unless you especially tell me to. Okay?"

"Kay," Draco mumbled against Harry's collars.

Harry smoothed Draco's hair and then gently lifted the boy into a standing position. "Do you want to, ah, put your trousers and robes back on? Do you need any help with them?"

"N-- No, I think I can manage to dress myself just fine," Draco stammered.

Harry turned to look away. "You need to see Pomfrey?" he asked, after a little while.

"No!" Draco's voice hitched with unshed tears. "She'd only make it ten times worse."

"Do you want to go back to the dorms, then?" Harry suggested. "We could always skip the first classes, if you need to calm down."

"No, no," Draco shook his head, and shrugged the robes over his shoulders. "I want to go to class. I don't want anyone to think that something _happened_."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "I mean, I think this might have been a little bit too traumatizing for you."

"I'm sure, Potter, get off it. I'm a strong person, despite everything you must think of me. If I dwell on this matter, it will depress me even more than it already does. Just... Let's just go to breakfast, alright?"

"Alright," Harry sighed. He glanced at Draco's dishevelled outlook, and out of pure feeling, threw a couple of cleaning and repairing charms on Draco's clothes. "Presentable again. Good."

Draco managed a small smile. "Thanks, Potter. For everything, and all."

"You're quite welcome. Now, let's get going. I want to know what Blaise did to Lovegood."

* * *

The breakfast ended up being a rather short occasion for Harry, Blaise and Draco, for obvious reasons that were solely related to Miss Luna Lovegood. Blaise had taken the girl straight to Professor Snape, who had been more than a little pissed off and nearly cursed the poor girl, until he had remembered that, as a teacher, he wasn't allowed use violence on his students. And, by all means, he remembered that this episode wasn't entirely Luna's fault, after all. Still, Luna had been presented with a month full of detentions with either Filch or Snape, and her house lost altogether two hundred points. The main reason for Snape's frantic anger was heard to be the 'outrageous usage of Muggle kidnapping methods on a wizard student'.

Draco had not wanted to see the girl anymore. He'd had quite enough of her, for the rest of his life. But Harry and Blaise, instead, had spent a good fifteen minutes each yelling harsh words at the poor Ravenclaw. And now, when it was finally the time to eat something, they had to do it with a hurry. The classes would start strictly at nine, and not even molested Veela students were allowed to dodge the rules. And hence, all the boys were now sitting at the Slytherin house table, eating with passion.

Draco was in a very bad mood, embarrassed and angry because of the morning's happenings. Blaise wisely avoided Draco's wrath at all costs, but Harry was unfazed; after all, an angry and fiery Malfoy was exactly what he'd gotten used to, during all his years at Hogwarts.

They were nearly finished with eating, when Harry saw Ron and Ginny leave the Gryffindor table. The events of yesterday came rushing back into his mind. The fight with Ron, and the fact that he had been slightly injured. And, of course, the weird encounter with Malfoy in his full Veela form.

"By the way, what was all that shit that happened yesterday, Malfoy?" Harry asked, while munching the final bites of his chicken and ham sandwich. "I mean, uhh... the healing thing. I forgot to ask you about it yesterday, but well, you were talking to Snape the entire evening."

"Not now, Potter."

"I think I deserve to know," Harry cast a smouldering glare at the Veela. "After all, I was the victim of that demonstration."

There was an audible, suffering sigh, and Draco turned to Harry. "Fine. Do you remember anything Snape told you? When he introduced you to the Veela subject?"

"Er... Some of it?"

"You're impossible, Potter," Draco shook his head. "Anyway, he told you about these healing powers that most Veela and half-Veela have. However, this area of my expertise was left mostly uncovered since you started mocking me, and we got distracted."

"Oh, now I remember." Harry was a little ashamed.

"Alright, to make it short and understandable for your puny brains, I really truly have healing powers. It's my saliva that re-generates the cells in the injured area, recognizing the genetic inheritance of the person I'm healing from the person's blood."

"Oh." Harry felt stupid. He knew they learned about these things in Muggle schools, but since he wasn't going into one, he had no actual knowledge on the matter. "That's... nice."

"You really don't know much about me, do you, Potter?" Draco sounded slightly worried. "You haven't been reading any books about the Veela, have you?"

"Um," Harry was even more ashamed than before. "Well. I guess I should finally make the effort. I mean, you're right. There are many things about you that I don't know. And how should I be able to protect you, if I don't know anything about what you are."

"Good thinking, Potter," Draco admitted. "But maybe it would still be wiser if you stayed away from the literature. You know, you will learn while you watch, and all that. Also, that way, you won't come across any information you might possibly find, ah, intimidating."

Harry raised his thick, black brow. "Intimidating?"

Draco looked elsewhere. "I don't really fancy you knowing about my sexual streaks, or other things like that."

"And here I thought you had no sexual streaks, seeing as..."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Potter, or I'll poke your eye out with this fork!"

"Are you two finished already?" Blaise asked, with great amount of annoyance, and stood up from his chair. "Because, you know, it's three minutes to nine."

* * *

Wizard Fashion Designing was indeed an interesting class, although the group was rather small. Only two Gryffindors were present, not counting Harry. They were Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, both wearing a dirty amount of make-up that made Harry want to gag. At the sight of Harry, the two girls came straight away to talk to him.

"Oi, Harry! How come you're here? We didn't know you were taking this class," Lavender simpered, eyeing Draco rather predatorily.

"You know perfectly well that I'm here because of Malfoy." Harry tried to remain calm. "Otherwise I would be having Divination."

"Oh, well, that's a pity! I mean, that you have to be here if you don't want to." Parvati adopted an artificially sad expression.

"Actually, I think I'll like this fashion designing thing ten times more than Trelawney's class." Harry smiled angelically, but simultaneously, a sharp edge emerged into his green eyes. "Besides, I think you're just sorry that I'm here, standing between you and Malfoy."

Parvati glanced quickly at the Veela boy, who was now sitting with Blaise on the other side of the room. Blaise was currently trying to help Draco to get rid of Hannah Abbot, who was perfectly convinced that she was the Veela's right mate.

"Maybe," Parvati finally confessed, smiling craftily. "So, when is my turn? I got the number thirteen, you know, on that list."

Harry went pale. He had completely forgotten all about that silly list. The previous evening, as well as this morning, had been so confusing, after all. And now... People were expecting him to act upon it. What would Malfoy say if he found about that list? He would kill Harry in a flash of a lightning.

"Er," Harry coughed, unconsciously patting the piece of parchment that lay in his chest pocket. He decided it would be best to get rid of Parvati as soon as possible, and he knew just what to say to make this happen. "Oh, your turn will be soon. I promise."

"That's wonderful! I know I'm the right one, you'll just wait and see." Parvati threw Harry a bright grin, as well as a warm hug, and hastened to take a seat in the front row.

"Harry?" Lavender grabbed his forearm and batted her eyelashes. "My number was nine. I suspect there are still a few ahead of me?"

"Umh, yeah." Harry chewed his lips. "A couple of names before yours are still left."

"Can't wait my turn!" Lavender squealed, and went to take the next available seat closest to Malfoy, swaying her hips in a womanly way as she went.

Harry was appalled, and quickly walked to his own seat that was next to Theodore, and right behind Draco. Two minutes later, to Harry's mild surprise, Professor McGonagall sailed into the classroom. The Deputy Headmistress looked disapproving, just like she always did, but smiled a little when she caught the sight of Draco. The Veela boy instinctively leaned back in his chair, and Harry put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," he whispered to Draco. "I'll make sure she won't attempt anything."

"You better," Draco hissed back, and looked foreboding.

"Attention, class!" McGonagall's voice sounded shrill. "Today, we will start working on the sketches you have made. Please take them forth."

Harry, of course, didn't have anything ready for the class, so he just settled with watching Theodore's designs. The boy had painted a full set of robes, deep burgundy in their colour, silvery embroidery falling neatly down from the collars and continuing all the way down to the hems. He had written the word 'velvet' on top of an arrow that pointed to the red colour.

"That looks nice," Harry commented. "But do you think you can do it? It looks rather difficult, especially the decorations."

Theodore looked superior. "Of course I can do it. I am very good at tailoring charms. Besides, this is not at all too difficult compared to Draco's sketches."

Harry felt himself intrigued, and jabbed the blonde in the back. "Hey Malfoy, can I see your designs?"

Draco turned his head around, and smirked. "No."

"Why not?" Harry scowled.

"Because I don't want to show you."

"Why not?" Harry repeated.

"Because you wouldn't understand any of it, even if I did."

"Try me."

"Was that an invitation?" Draco winked.

"Malfoy!" Harry groaned. "Stop that! And let me see that drawing of yours."

Draco submissively gave his designs to Harry, and sulked. "Fine."

Harry took the sketch in his hand, and eyed it with utter fascination. This outfit, just as Theodore had said, was not anywhere near as easy to make as a set of plain burgundy robes. In fact...

"Malfoy, these are _Muggle_ clothes," he grinned.

"I said you wouldn't understand," Draco raised his chin defiantly.

"These clothes I can certainly understand," Harry hoverer his fingers across the exquisite, snug-looking shirt and tight trousers. "It's just weird to see _you_ designing anything remotely Muggle."

"Why so? After all, you mudblood-loving fools went and won the war. I might as well try and get used to the fact that more and more muggleborns will be roaming around the wizarding community in the future." Draco crossed his arms. His silvery eyes were looking Harry up and down rather greedily. "And, by the way, I just got the best idea in the world."

Harry shivered under that insatiable stare. "And what is that?"

"You will be my model," the Slytherin grinned. "I will get to dress you like a Barbie-doll."

"No way in hell," Harry looked aghast. "And how do you know what a Barbie-doll is?"

"Daphne had one of those in our first year. She used to comb her hair and dress her. She even named her, it was something like... Hey, Blaise, what was the name of that stupid doll of Daphy's again?"

"Mary Joanna Gonzales."

"She called hear toy Marijuana?" Harry gaped.

"No, you dork, I said _Mary Joanna_," Blaise rolled his eyes. "Spanish people spell the names differently, you know. And Daphne's grandmother was Spanish, hence the witty name."

"Still sounds Marijuana to me," Harry shrugged.

"Whatever, who cares," Draco waved his hand. "Now... Will you model for me, Potter?"

"No!" Harry protested, annoyed. "I will most certainly _not."_

"Please?" Draco tried his puppy eyes again. "Pretty please. Haaaarrryyyy..."

"You're crazy."

"You make me crazy, so it's your fault," Draco retorted.

Harry did not realise this sentence could be interpreted in two ways, and therefore was saved from a bout of vigorous blushing. "We've been through this before," he said to the blonde git, furrowing his brows. "And I have already said I'm sorry about everything that happened. Now will you finally get over it?"

"Only if you model for me."

"Will not."

"Will do. Otherwise I will never forgive you, and I will hex you oh so real bad when I get normal, again."

"You will hex me anyway so I don't see your point," Harry remarked. "Besides, I'm nobody's puppet."

"Haaarryyyy..." Draco pleaded again. "It's not like you'd be embarrassed. I know these clothes would look tremendously good on you."

"Anything would look better on him than that atrocious red pullover," Blaise commented from his seat, earning a hateful glare from Harry.

"Just do it, Potter," sighed Theodore. "It's nothing bad. Besides, this class will get really boring for you if you don't have anything to do."

To this statement, Harry had to agree. He looked again at the picture in his hand, and sighed. It really was not that atrocious. The shirt was dark green, almost black, and the collars and the cuffs looked really stylish. And as to the trousers, they seemed to be made of something very soft and clingy. The man in the sketch turned, and revealed his backside to Harry. Harry gaped a little; he had rarely seen such a good-looking ass. Well, except for Malfoy's, but that line of thought was absolutely out of question. Harry shook his head, and looked at the trousers again. Their waistline rode rather slow, but Harry thought it was rather intriguing. Would these garments look just as good on him, as well?

"Alright, Malfoy, you win," he shook his head. "Just... Don't make me strip in front of the whole class, alright?"

"I would never do anything so plebeian," Draco said, adopting his most fake-innocent expression.

"Oh, of course not," Harry mocked.

"Enough of this futile argument," Draco grinned, and promptly jumped out of his seat. "Stand up, Potter, so that I can measure you."

Harry glared, but did just as Draco told him to do.

* * *

The class of Wizard Fashion Designing had just ended, and Harry was walking towards the Sexual Behaviour of Magical Creatures with his new Slytherin companions. He was very fidgety; his skin was tickling all over. He could still feel Malfoy's fingers all over him, the Veela's spells lingering on his skin. The closeness of the beautiful blonde boy was starting to affect him in the weirdest of ways. No, he did not feel the uncontrollable urge to ravish the boy, like the rest of the school. Oh, no... He just felt like... like a fool. He felt light-headed and giggly and unreal and ready to conjure up a bunch of beautiful silvery butterflies, whenever he looked at Malfoy.

And he knew that this could not be a good sign.

"Potter, you seem oddly out of it today," Draco raised Harry an elegant brow.

"Well, excuse me of being a little embarrassed," Harry coughed. "You had me in my underwear, for heaven's sake!"

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Draco beamed, and raised his face towards the sun that peeked from behind the curtain of clouds. Life couldn't get any better.

"Sadistic bastard," Harry muttered.

"In case you didn't notice, we were in a broom closet. Nobody else saw you but me," Draco smiled against the glare of the warm sun, and inhaled the autumn air. It was left unmentioned that, if anyone else somehow _would_ have seen Harry in this state of undress, Draco would have had to kill them all.

"You're not helping," Harry brooded. "It's almost worse than anything that _you_ were the one to see my scars. Now you're going to ridicule me till the end of my days because of them."

"There's nothing to ridicule about," Draco said, quietly. "Voldemort was not exactly a funny man."

Harry involuntarily ran his hand across his lower back, where a series of sharp whiplash scars were marring his skin. He had been careful not to show them to anyone, because he didn't like to be questioned about them. Ron knew, of course, as did the rest of the Gryffindor seventh year boys; but nobody else had seen them. Even Hermione had only heard of them. And now Malfoy had as much as _touched _them, only a few moments ago, which made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable.

"And here I thought you were his supporter," he looked at Malfoy calculatingly. "You were your father's son, in every aspect of the word."

"I... I don't know what I was," Draco admitted, looking at his feet. "And I'm still learning."

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he looked up in the sky, and smiled. "This is an oddly civilized conversation between us, you know. Who knows, maybe we can become friends."

"Heaven forbid," Draco looked aghast. "Friends with you, Potter? Sorry, but I don't have a death wish."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry pouted.

"You're a trouble magnet, Potter. Everywhere you go, you end up in dangerous situations. Endangering your friends in the process, as well, I might add."

"That was before Voldemort was dead," Harry pointed out. "Since then, I haven't been anywhere _near_ trouble."

"Well you're near _me_ right now," Draco looked smug. "Don't you call that trouble anymore?"

Harry groaned. He knew he would never win a witty argument with Malfoy. "Let's just go to class, shall we? The others have already gathered."

* * *

The care of Magical Creatures continued with the Medusa women. When Draco and Harry arrived at the wooden shed, Blaise came over to them immediately, giving nasty glares at Harry.

"Where have you been?" he grunted at Draco. "I was worried that something might have happened to you."

Draco was feeling a little thoughtful, after his conversation with Harry, and didn't quite hear the other boy. Did Harry really want to be friends with him? That was called progress, wasn't it? Yet progress was exactly what Draco tried to avoid, for the sake of his sanity when he would get his medicines back.

"Draco, do you hear me?" Blaise was irritated. "I asked you if everything was alright."

"Everything's just fine," Draco grinned. "I was just having my wicked way with Potter in the broom closet, nothing more."

"Malfoy!" Harry nudged the Veela in the ribs, feeling very mortified. "That sounded... wrong."

Blaise looked at them both with calculating eyes. "Draco, you sure Potter's immune to your charms? I mean, you two seem to be awfully comfortable hanging around with each other these days. There's almost no trace of your former rivalry left. You even call each other by your first names, occasionally, when you don't realise it."

"Blame it all to these damned Veela hormones, Blaise," Draco sighed. "And yes, I'm quite sure Potter's still immune."

"How can you be so sure?" Blaise looked suspicious.

"Come on, let's go inside the shed, first." Draco grabbed both Harry and Blaise from the shoulders, and pushed them forwards. "The lesson's starting. I'll tell you all about it when Hagrid's booming his nonsense to the rest of the class."

"It's not nonsense," Harry protested, but Draco silenced him with a sharp look.

They settled down on the mossy ground, in the darkest corner of the shed. Draco self-righteously un-fastened Harry's school cloak and spread it down, sitting on the black canvas. He did not want to dirty his own, expensive clothes at any costs. Besides, he would buy Harry a new cloak soon, anyway, because he was sick and tired of being seen with such a shabbily dressed protector. The next Hogsmeade weekend... He imagined the scene in his mind's eye: dragging the kicking and screaming Harry into the Gladrags Wizardwear, forcing the Gryffindor to burn all his old clothes and buy dozens of new outfits, chosen by Draco himself.

A sharp nudge in his ribs awoke him from his pleasant musings.

"Draco, what was it you were going to tell us about Potter's immunity?" Blaise hissed.

Draco blinked a couple of times, before he realised he was sitting very close to Blaise and Harry, his shoulders tightly squeezed between the two bodies. Blaise was leaning awfully close to him, and Harry was nearly embracing him with his authoritative poise, his delightfully well-built body looming over Draco's lithe form, trying to make Blaise retreat.

Draco could not help himself leaning just a little bit more into Harry's warmth.

"Well, as you know, Snape came to see me yesterday," he whispered. "He told me he'd been doing some research on Potter's background, in order to find out why Harry's been so totally unaffected by me."

"I find the idea of Snape digging out information about my heritage rather gross," Harry snarled.

"Well, you can only blame yourself," Draco sneered. "Why do you have to be always so special?"

"It's not my fault!" Harry bristled.

"Whatever," Blaise was impatient. "Go on, Draco, what did Snape say?"

"He said he couldn't find anything. And when he didn't, he finally went to see Dumbledore," Draco frowned. Suddenly, his expression turned rather disgusted. "And it turns out that Dumbledore has been casting some kind of spells on Harry, without anyone knowing about it. One of them was a Veela Repellent Charm of some sorts, and Dumbledore used it on Harry before the Second War began. He wanted to make sure Voldemort couldn't get to Harry by using his Bulgarian Army that consisted of Veela women, among other things."

Harry looked stricken, and Blaise looked even more irate than what he'd already been.

"I guess Dumbledore really knew what he was doing, from the very moment he appointed Harry to be my protector," Draco drawled on. "He knew Harry wouldn't fall for me, because he couldn't, because of that spell."

After several moments of silence, Blaise started to curse under his breath, and Harry broke into complaints.

"I can't believe this!" Harry was spitting fire. "I am going to _kill_ him! I fucking well would have deserved to know if some spell were cast on me! Who does he think he is, the imbecile old coot! Who is he to decide about my destiny? I want to have that charm removed immediately! I want _all _those stupid charms removed! The War is over now, and I want to have my _own life back_!"

"Surely you won't attempt to _kill_ him?" Draco wondered out loud, turning his face to Harry just so that his nose touched Harry's cheek, just below the earlobe. He found it utterly hard to resist the Gryffindor when he was so angry. "It wouldn't look good in your CV."

"How come not?" Harry growled, sneering in an evil way that made Draco's stomach flutter. "I think it would look rather impressive, myself, having killed the most powerful wizard in the world."

"You already killed Voldemort, I think that is enough," Draco smiled. "Besides, if you kill Dumbledore, then who can lift the charms off you?"

"Well." Harry thought about this fact for a moment. "I'm going to kill him _after _he's removed the charms."

"Calm down, Potter," Blaise put in. "Dumbledore was thinking only of your best at that time. I think killing him is a fairly improper way to reward him for his kindliness."

"Kindliness my ass," Harry muttered heatedly, and Draco found himself giggling suddenly.

The laughter was contagious, and soon Blaise was guffawing next to him, trying to hold the noisiest outbursts in check. Harry could watch the two silly Slytherins only a few seconds with a straight face, before collapsing into hysterics, as well. The rest of the class turned to look at their direction with not-so-little confusion, but the small group ignored them all. Everything felt so ridiculous, so crazy, all of a sudden.

The laughter released something in the atmosphere around the three boys, and soon they were all relaxed and feeling wonderful, again. Draco was feeling exited about the prospect that Harry might want to get the spell removed, and his mood was improving by every passing second because of that thought. Blaise was relieved because he now knew Potter was genuinely faultless for his position as Draco's keeper, and most likely wouldn't try anything funny with any of the Slytherins. And Harry...

Harry was just happy to see Draco laughing, again.

.

.

TBC

.


End file.
